


The House on Harrington Lane

by Gimme_a_Hand_Scaevola



Category: The Monstrumologist Series - Rick Yancey
Genre: AU, Drabbles, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Family Drama, M/M, Thieved Turn of the Century AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 14:55:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 97,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4610928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gimme_a_Hand_Scaevola/pseuds/Gimme_a_Hand_Scaevola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[A series of drabbles of the Warthropian family developed from combining Uirukii's fabulous Turn of the Centrury AU (Go and read that) and my own (from The Assistant Apprentice).]</p><p>The house had become, sometime in the last few years, more than the lair for the eccentric Doctor Warthrop. The doctor who had long proclaimed his desire to exist in solitude had collected first Will Henry, then in the dark of night, his own daughter he had not even known he had had. Finally they had been joined in permanence by Dr. Jack Kearns. Together the ragtag family feels love and loss, fortune and tribulation. </p><p>Warning: Here lies gooey familial cuteness and no plot.</p><p>(Drabbles are not in chronological order)</p><p>UPDATE: Chapter 32: Sibling Bonding: In the year that Anna leaves for college, Pellinore become intolerable. By the time they are in New York for the Colloquium Will Henry has been pushed to his limits. Lashing out as only a sixteen year old can he takes inebriated solace in the apartment of his surrogate sister.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Witches Get Stitches

**Author's Note:**

> The setting for this AU was developed by Uirukii, you ought to pay her homage and read her work here entitled 'Part II: Serendipitous Breath" 
> 
> The development for my OC Annalee can be found at my own work, "The Assistant Apprentice." 
> 
> These are just silly drabbles I wrote to indulge myself.

Muriel Chanler was making her way down the hotel’s hallway toward Pellinore’s door. After seeing him so obviously close with that foul Jack Kearns at the colloquium she felt she must talk to him privately. So preoccupied was she that she took little notice of the person sitting on the floor a few doors down from Pellinore’s playing a gameboy. 

The little form, for it was rather little, a full head shorter than Muriel herself, did not miss the woman walking hesitantly down the hall. Watched her like a hawk in her peripheral vision. This was, in fact, the reason that she had chosen to remain sitting uncomfortably in a hotel hallway rather than escape to her own devices in New York City. When the woman was near, barely three feet away, the girl slid her game into her back pocket and stood in a fluid motion, barring the way down the hallway. 

It was then that Muriel realized who the girl was, standing there with her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Only one person would be in a hotel of this caliber dressed in such ragged jeans that hung over dirty converse sneakers, and wearing a tshirt from a band Muriel had never heard of. 

“Excuse me, Anna,” Muriel said, although this did not bode well. 

A grin, not a comforting one, slid over Anna’s face, so like her father’s in structure and so different in expression, “Nuhuh.” 

“I really must speak privately with your father, Anna.” 

“Oh, yeah, bet you’d like that,” she said, digging her hands in her pockets but sidestepping to block Muriel’s attempt to walk around her, “I know why you’re here.” 

“And how would you possibly?” Muriel asked, still trying to sound chipper. 

Anna raised an eyebrow, “I eavesdrop, I know what’s goin’ on.” 

“That isn’t very polite.” 

Anna sidestepped again, keeping Muriel at bay, “Yeah, I’m not very polite. Brings me to why I’ve been sitting on the ground for an hour though, you n’ me are gonna have a conversation.” 

“I promise I will spare you no attention after I’ve spoken to your father, perhaps I can take you out somewhere nice. Do you like icecream? I can take you to the finest parlor in New York!” 

Anna took an aggressive step forward, forcing Muriel back, “Nah, you ‘n me,” she said flicking a finger between herself and Muriel, “We’re gonna chat now.” 

“Alright,” Muriel conceded, “What do you have to say?” 

“Well, I’ve got a couple things, first off, normally I would respect a woman who was so dedicated to ruining somebody that they vengeance married their best friend and came swooping back in the eleventh hour to go for the throat. I’m pretty sure you’re an actual witch, and any other time, I would be asking you to teach me how to turn men into sea urchins.”

Muriel sputtered in indignation, “Annalee Warthrop, I am not a witch!”

 

Anna waved that away, “No, I’m pretty sure you’re six thousand years old and keep your beauty by bathing in virgin blood, but that is neither here nor there.” 

“You have quite the imagination, Anna, but really-”

“Shut it, I’ve been sitting here for an hour working on this speech. I got more points to make. You’re a witch. But you married John. You know what, I’m gonna let myself get distracted here. Come on, lady, John is the tits. What the fuck you gotta fuck with John for?” 

Muriel’s face softened, “Is that what this is about? Sweetheart, crushes are-”

Anna’s face screwed up, “Don’t make this weird, I’m fifteen and he’s in his thirties. This is about respect for a kindred spirit who I very much so look up to. I too, one day, hope I can get Dad to fart his way through something very important to him. John does God’s work.”

“Look, Anna, I understand that you are upset and you think that you know what’s going on. But this doesn’t have anything to do with you.” 

“Don’t try to derail me. I worked on this. Look, M, I’m not stupid, I know what’s going on between my dad and Jack and to be honest, I’ve been pretty invested in it for awhile now. See you’re irritating and Jack is cool as shit. Right now, he’s in there with dad getting all flustered about feelings or whatever and if I keep you outta there long enough for them to get all PG-13 about it he’ll teach me how to drive a motorcycle.” 

Muriel looked aghast, “Dr. Kearns put you up to this?”

Anna scoffed, “Of course he didn’t, keep up, I just assume he’ll be on my side about it. Anyway, I’ve been banking on him showing me how to make boys who flirt with me shit their pants and plumbing him for knowledge on his he got so fucking badass is a pretty big part of my future plans. And I’m not going to rest until he is a permanent fixture in my home. Also, he and my dad are fucking adorable and give each other big ol’ doughy eyes. It’s cute as shit, Muriel.”

“Your language is simply-” 

“-The least of your problems, see everybody else involved in this is either Will Henry, who, bless him, has no idea what’s happening, or a grown ass man who seem to have a couple of tribulations giving you your due. You better than your lucky fucking stars, by the way, that Jack has tribulations because I’m pretty sure he wants to cold cock you so hard you shit your own teeth. See if you’re a grown ass man its risky business giving a pretty lady the what for. Luckily for my gross, stupid, love struck, dumbass father, and for Jack, who I’ll just jump the gun and start calling Motorcycle Dad right now, I got fewer qualms.” 

“What?” Muriel took a hurried step back. 

Anna was only fifteen, but she had never let that stop her before. She rushed forward, knocked Muriel, who had never been in a fight in her life, off balance and swooped in, slinging the older woman over her shoulder. 

Holding her securely, she, whistling, began walking her out of the hotel, waiting patiently for the elevator to reach them. Regardless of any fuss that Muriel put up, she was simply no match. 

When it dinged and opened, Anna, stepped smartly inside. When she got to the first floor she walked to one of the hotel’s back doors, avoiding the main lobby. She kicked the door open and dumped Muriel out onto the ground unceremoniously. With a stroke of inspiration, she pulled the disposable camera her father had given her for sight seeing out of her pocket and took a picture of Muriel sitting on her ass on the pavement, ruffled. 

Without a backward glance, she went back upstairs to resume her vigil.


	2. Miss Kearns

There was a three percent chance he would go for it. Less than that. No doubt he would just say something irritating and hand the phone over to her father. But it was better than the alternative. At least if she called Jack she stood a chance of surviving.

“I have been rather bored waiting for you boys to -” he started.

She cut him off glumly, “Hey, Jack.” 

There was a protracted pause then a heavy sigh, “Is there a particular reason you are calling me at eight o'clock in the morning from a Boston police station?” 

“You’re in Boston, right? Dad said.” 

“I am. Why are you?” 

“I’ll tell you if you pick me up.” 

“What an irresistible insensitive,” he replied dryly. 

“How bout if you come get me I’ll never take you bike again?” 

“How about if you ever take my motorcycle again I will put a bullet between your eyes.” 

“Don’t they record these calls?” 

“If the Boston police officers have met you, they will understand my impulse.” 

“So you’re coming, though, right?” 

“I’ll call your father, he’ll be there in a few hours.” 

“Come on, Jack! You’re already in town!” 

“You are lucky I am not previously engaged.” 

“So you’re coming!”

“Yes, you incorrigible deviant, I will be there in twenty minutes. But I will be calling your father shortly after.” 

“Is there any way I could-” He hung up on her. 

Forty minutes later rather than twenty, he had stalled out of spite, Jack Kearns had parked his Triumph and was walking into the Boston police station. 

The officer at the front desk, Mendez, gave Jack a pitying little smile, “Mornin’ Dr. Kearns, we didn’t expect to see you around here for a couple o’ days. Didn’t know you had a daughter.” 

He nearly told the officer that he most certainly didn’t have a daughter, but he stopped himself. He wasn’t entirely sure that was true any more. 

Another officer, a tall woman Kearns didn’t know, brought her down, with a firm hand on her shoulder, “Here you go, Miss Kearns.” 

Jack’s eyebrows shot up, “Miss...Kearns?” 

Mendez noted Jack’s confusion, “Well, doctor, that’s what ‘er ID said,” He ruffled through some papers to check, “Lee Kearns.” 

She looked up at the officer who had led her out, “I don’t spose you’ll give that back, huh?” 

The woman scowled at her, “Not a chance.”

Mendez’s big brown eyes looked at Jack, “She is yours, isn’t she, Dr. Kearns. We didn’t charge her when she said you were her dad.” 

She shifted uncomfortably under the weight of Jack’s venomous glare. 

“Well, I will take her.” 

She darted forward out of the grip of the officer and slunk behind Jack. 

He put an aggressive hand on her shoulder and turned her toward the door. 

“Oh, Miss Kearns,” Mendez called, “You’re forgetting your things.” 

“Oh, right!” she went back to Mendez’ desk and snatched the plastic bag of personal effects from his hand, “See you, Charlie,” she said to him with a wink.

“Oh, I hope not, Miss Kearns.” 

Jack took her by the shoulder and led her out of the station. 

“Lee Kearns?” He asked. In a fashion that could only have been construed by a Warthrop, he was both irritated, befuddled, and touched. 

She grinned up at him sheepishly, “Thanks for picking me up, Motorcycle Dad.” 

“A fake ID?” He asked, exasperated. 

“Yeah, but it’s not what you think, can you take me to the impound, by the way?” 

Jack stopped walking and pinched the bridge of his nose between his two fingers, in a low tone he hissed, “Annalee Warthrop, if you have stolen a car-”

“No!” She protested, “You think I’d steal a car!” 

He glowered at her. 

“Hey,” She said defensively, “Your Triumph is a motorcycle, not a car. And I only borrowed it.” 

“Anna,” he threatened. 

“So, ok, let me explain, there was this contest, but you had to be twenty one to enter, but I really wanted to. And the prize was really good. So I you know….”

“Acquired a fake ID, entered the contest, and won the vehicle that was the grand prize?” 

“You’re good.” 

“How did you possibly pass for twenty one? You’re barely seventeen.” 

She grinned up at him sheepishly, “Charm?” 

He raised an eyebrow, “No.” 

She wilted, “A hundred bucks.” 

He sighed again, leaning against his motorcycle, “What was the contest?” 

“Poker.” 

“And you won? Against whom?”

“A whole biker bar!” 

“Anna!” He exclaimed, “Do you have any idea the sort of danger you were in in a biker bar?” 

She grinned, “What? Worried about me, Jack?” 

He scowled at her, “No, but your father would be irritatingly morose if you were to be murdered.” 

She shoved her hands in her pockets, “So will you take me to the impound, Biker Dad?” 

“Call me that again and I will take you to an early grave.” 

“Come on, Jack!” She pleaded, “Don’t you want to see my new bike?” 

“You won a motorcycle?” 

“Yeah, a sweet one!” She exclaimed, grinning maniacally. 

“Your father will skin you alive.” 

“...are you going to tell him I got picked up?” 

“Why ever would I not?” 

“Out of the goodness of your heart?” 

“How long have you known me?” 

She sighed, “I got another hundred bucks.” 

“That is just insulting.” 

She swayed, hands in her pockets, looking at him with her father’s big dark eyes. 

“Oh, get on then, I’ll take you to your bloody prize.” 

Gleeful, she hopped on the back of his Triumph and he took her to the Boston City Impound where she retrieved her ill gotten gains. 

She touched the motorcycle as though it were a thing of absolute beauty. Jack’s lips twisted up in contempt, “That. You risked your life playing poker at a biker bar for that?”

“Isn’t he gorgeous?” She asked in a loving tone. 

“No.” 

The bike was a monstrosity, a rusted steel skeleton molded into the form of a motorcycle, the headlight affixed in the skull’s gaping mouth. To Jack’s eyes it was a tacky and tawdry nightmare. But then, he was not seventeen.

“Still gonna tell dad?” 

He fixed her with a viper’s smirk, “Oh, sweetheart, I won’t be telling your father.” 

Foolishly hopeful she said, “Really, thanks Jack!” 

“Oh, I would not be so grateful. I only meant I will not be telling your father yet.”


	3. Daddy Warthrop

Pellinore Warthrop had been infuriated to be woken at such a time by the ringing of his cell phone. It was passed two in the morning. He had finally gone to sleep only a few hours ago and desperately needed the rest. His fury fell away entirely when he heard the shaking voice on the other end. 

“....Dad?” Anna, voice trembling and soft, “Can you come get me?” 

“Anna?” Pellinore said sharply, sitting up. Jack woke also at the sudden movement from the other side of the bed, squinting at Pellinore through the darkness, “Why aren’t you in bed? Where are you?” 

“I’ll text you the address, I’m at a party. Can you get me? Now?” Her voice was not broken in sobs but it was tiny and small. Two features Pellinore could not recall his daughter’s voice having ever taken on. 

“A party Annalee? I do not remember extending you permission to go to a party.”

“Yeah I’m in trouble, okay,” she said, “Dad, just come get me.” Now her voice broke and he heard sniffing and muffled cries. 

He softened, almost stood, then asked in a tone that, like his daughter’s, was not the expected timbre of his voice, “Would you prefer I send Jack?” 

Her reply came in the tight sound of one attempting to sound like she had not been crying, “Oh, yeah, are you busy or...I mean, that’s fine. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” 

Pellinore rose and pulled on his pants with one hand, holding the phone with the other, “No, I am not busy.” 

A few more muffled sniffs, “Can you come and get me, dad?” 

“Yes, Anna, send me the address, I will fetch you.” 

She hung up and a minute later his phone beeped with her incoming text. 

“Was that Anna?” Jack asked, brow furrowed, “Is she alright? It’s the middle of the night.” 

“I will soon find out,” Pellinore said, pulling a sweater on and striding out the door. In record time he was downstairs and pulling the Daytona out into the street. 

The street she sent him to was littered with the poorly maintained cars of teenagers. He scanned the line of them quickly for Jack’s Triumph, she had only gotten her license a few months ago and was overeager to test out his motorcycle. But it appeared even she was not so foolish as to borrow that. 

He would have slammed his way through the entire house, shaken every teenager inside, but he did not have to. As soon as she stepped out of the car he saw his Anna darting toward him from the stoop. Her jeans were too tight for his liking but now he noticed only the eye makeup that was smeared down her splotchy face. She did not stop, nor awkwardly shuffle about like she did when she knew she was in trouble.

Anna darted right into her father’s arms and pressed her face against his chest. She pulled herself back and wiped her eyes on the back of her hand before he had a chance to reciprocate any affection. “Can we go home?” 

He nodded and pulled open the door for her, getting in to the driver’s side and pulling away from the curb. Had she simply started crying he might have been very Pellinore Warthrop about it. But she did not. She looked straight forward and gritted her teeth and he could see from the glances he took of her while he drove, that she was trying to make her face an emotionless mask to calm herself down. Being only 16 to his 38, she was not as good at it as he was. But it made him understand. 

In the middle of the dark gravel road that would have taken them back to town, he pulled over. He got out of the car without a word and sat on the hood. This was not something he regularly permitted, but he felt the circumstances allowed it. 

Wordlessly, she followed his lead, scooting herself up on the hood of the car and pulling her knees up to her chest. After a moment she let herself tip sideways, leaning up against him. Pellinore dropped his arm around her, tucking her under his jacket for warmth. She nuzzled into her father’s side. 

Pellinore did not ask her what had happened. In his years of knowing his progeny, he knew that to press her he would get all spine and fire and no truth at all. 

“Sorry I snuck out.” 

“You are young and foolish and your frontal lobe is not entirely developed.” 

“Am I still in trouble?” 

“Yes.” 

She let the silence of the country road sit for awhile then, in a soft, almost unhearable voice she said, “There was this guy…” 

The worst thought assaulted Pellinore and wrathful fury raged through his blood, but he, better at it than she was, kept himself still. More important than running a teenage boy over with his car, or perhaps setting the hounds on him, by which he meant Kearns, was caring for his little girl who shivered under his arm. 

“I mean...he was really drunk. Everybody was I guess. I don’t Allison I would drive though so I don’t know. But he kept like, I dunno, trying to..” she stuttered with embarrassment, “I just wanted to hang out with my friends and he wouldn’t leave me alone.” 

Pellinore could not resist, the need to know too compelling, “Anna are you hurt?”

There was the worst silence, the longest Pellinore had ever endured, “My knuckles are bleeding.” 

Relief flooded through him and, unable to resist, he gathered his little Anna into his lap, pulling his long arms around her as though she were a little child rather than a gangly teenager. 

She managed a few more words, “He was just, like, I was pretty clear about it but then he got all mad and called me a bunch of names and I just wanted to have fun with my friends.” She was entirely overwhelmed and gave in to sobbing, pushing her face into his chest. 

He reached up and stroked her hair, not shushing her as he normally would. “I sincerely hope, Annalee, that you hit him very hard.” 

She let out a choked laugh, “Yeah, I think I broke his nose.” 

Only hesitating for a moment, he bent and kissed the top of her head. 

“Dad?” She asked softly.

“Hmm?” 

“Thanks for coming to get me.” 

“I will always come and get you.”

She sniffed a final time, “I love you, dad.” 

Pellinore’s heart constricted, “I love you as well, Anna.” 

It was late and she was tired and tears have a way of pulling one under. She might have fallen asleep under his coat, curled up against her father. He let her. He would wake her soon, pile her back into the Daytona and take her home where she would be grounded for a month. But for now, he let his daughter sleep.


	4. Twitterpated

“You will wear a dress to the gala, Annalee. It is a formal event and you are a young lady.” 

Anna scowled at her father, “I’ll wear one if you wear one.” 

Jack, still fussing over his hair, stuck his head out of the hotel bathroom and said, “I would like to see that, Pellinore, perhaps she has a point.”

“Please, Annalee, just wear it. You have nothing else that will suffice.” 

Whining as only one in her teens could she said, “Fiiiiiine. But I won’t like it.” 

“You don’t have to like it.” Pellinore attempted to reason with her, “There will be boys there, perhaps, don’t you want to-”

She cut him off, “God you’re the dumbest smart person on the planet. Back me up, Jack.” 

Jack sniggered, “She isn’t wrong on that count, dear Pellinore.” 

“FINE!” Warthrop howled, “Wear whatever you will, Annalee, embarrass me in front of all of my colleagues, do as you please, as always!” 

If he was trying to appeal to her empathy, he failed. She grinned, “Sounds great. Thanks.” 

Her finished product, thirty minutes later, made Will smirk, her father snort, and Jack laugh in approval. Her recently cut hair, near to shaved at the sides and allowed to tousle into a distinctly Warthropian bed of curls on top looked exactly torn between disheveled and styled. 

She had stuck to her guns, forgoing a formal dress for close cut black pants and a sleek blazer. Her only concession to femininity being her shoes. 

Jack, as usual, far outstripped all of them in flashy fashion and Warthrop, also as usual, wore something dark and conservative. 

Will fussed with his hair. 

Anna smirked at him, “Lilly gonna be there, huh?” she teased, elbowing him softly in the ribs. 

He turned red, “Yes - no - I don’t know. I don’t care.” 

“Here,” she said, and she fixed up his hair for him, pulling at it until he looked as near to dashing as a fourteen year old could look. 

Together the ragtag family caught a cab to the gala. 

“You and Jack gonna dance, dad?” Anna asked teasingly. 

Jack scoffed, “Of course we are, don’t be foolish.” But color rose on Pellinore’s cheeks, which was the desired result. 

Their entrance to the gala, as it did every year, might have taken centuries. Pellinore Warthrop was greeted by everyone, and chatted to, and introduced. By the thirty seventh minute of lurking behind him while he talked to people neither she nor Will knew Anna was beginning to regret her high heels. 

For the thousandth time she looked around, wishing they would just find their damn seats. When she looked back, her father had remembered her and Will’s existence. 

“Torrance, I believe you remember my assistant, Will Henry. Though I do not think that you have met my daughter, Jacob Torrance, this is Annalee Warthrop.”   
“You got a kid, Pellinore!” the man, Torrance laughed, “Not so much the saint you act like, huh. I got one too, nice to meet you Annalee, this is mine, Erik.” 

Erik, who had been turned the other direction swiveled back at the sound of his name. Color rose on Anna’s cheeks. Will, grinning, elbowed her in the ribs. 

Erik was tall for a boy of sixteen. Although not nearly the breadth of his burly father the musculature of his arms and torso was not entirely hidden in his formal wear. He had wavy dark brown hair that stuck forward and honey colored eyes that danced in the light. His eyes, at the moment, had become rather riveted on Anna. 

She, recovering first, stuck out her hand, “Lee’s good.” 

He took and and gave it a single shake, “Nice to meetcha, Lee.” When she dropped his hand he smirked and ruffled the back of his hair. 

“Yeah, back at you,” she said. 

Pellinore had not noticed their interaction, but both Torrance and Jack were more than amused. Will, who had endured her sororal teasing about Lilly for months, looked as though he had sprung on gold. 

Pellinore dragged them away, moving on from Torrance to reacquaint himself with others of his field. Anna looked over her shoulder back at Erik, when they saw each other looking they both hastily turned away. 

As they retreated Jack’s eyes glittered at her, “Someone seemed rather taken with him. A bit twitterpated are we?”  
‘  
“What? No, shut up!” she defended herself lamely, “You’re twitterpated.” 

Jack winked, “Quite.” 

Finally, Pellinore led them to their table and their seats. 

Halfway through their meal, which was extraordinary, Will tugged on Anna’s sleeve, “Hey, Anna, look.” 

She knew already, based only on the irritating fraternal gleam in Will’s eye, what she was looking at. Erik Torrance was looking over at her from a few tables away, his eyebrow raised, smirk on his lips. He would have looked cool as a cucumber if his ears hadn’t been pink. 

She was not one to demurely look away, giggling behind her hands. She flicked up her eyebrows as if to say, ‘What?’ and held his gaze. 

Surprised and impressed his coy smirk broke into a wide smile that, realizing it or not, she matched. She could not help but laugh, although she kept herself quiet. Then it was his turn to match it, and she could see his torso shaking in giddy merriment. 

She was drawn out of the exchange by the mock noises of retching coming from her father’s irritating, incorrigible, snot nosed assistant. Luckily, Jack and her father were too distracted by Jack’s open flirting, which was driving shy Pellinore to distraction. 

“You gonna dance with him?” Will asked her in the same oily tone she often used when teasing him over Lilly. 

“Shut up!” She hissed. She had thought, to herself, that her disinclination to dance may one day magically disappear with the introduction of a sufficiently cute boy. It had not. At least not with the introduction of this boy, and he was certainly sufficiently cute. She was far more interested in seeing if his nerve would hold getting up to trouble, or how well he’d do in a fight. 

Well, the food was done, her dads were distracted and the dancing was starting up. She could either patiently wait for him to make some kind of move, or take matters into her own hands. For anyone even briefly introduced to her, the choice was fairly clear. 

“Cover for me,” she hissed to Will. 

He sighed and tried to make himself look very put upon, but agreed, and she slipped away from her parental supervision. She caught Erik’s eyes and motioned toward the back doors with her head. 

He did not sneak away from his father, but made no secret about his leaving to follow a girl. 

She, having picked up something of theatrics from Jack, kept just ahead of her game up the unlit back hall. They weren’t supposed to be in here, it led only to the garden, which was locked after dark. He followed her unerringly for more than five minutes through the dark hall until she came to the door that would lead them to the garden. It was, of course, locked. 

“Game’s up, Warthrop,” He said, crossing his arms, “That door’s locked.” 

She laughed, “Ameteur” and pulled from a pocket inside her jacket, a cherry red lockpick set. A gift from Jack. 

His eyebrows raised and whistled under his breath to himself. 

It only took her a couple of minutes to be through the door. She seized his hand and pulled him into the garden. Without complaint, he followed. 

They were, however met with a problem that she had not foreseen. The door had only led them to a path that circled a tall fence it was inside the fence that the treasure, an expansive pond which ended in a waterfall, lay. 

The fence was what had her stuck. It was too tall for her to get a good grip on. She could have pouted. Forbidden water, after all, draws teenagers like flies. 

“I got it,” Erik said. He rolled up his sleeves and, with a bit of a running start, leapt high enough to grip the top lateral beam of the fence and pull himself up. Halfway astride it, he turned back with a lopsided grin at her and offered his hand. 

She ditched her shoes and took the proffered hand, allowing him to pull her up after him. Without difficulty, given the boost, she swung herself dexterously over the fence and dropped to the other side. He followed right after. 

She made right for her prize, not waiting for him but racing across the garden in her bare feet then, shucking her jacket, beginning the ascent up the fake rock of the waterfall. As she had hoped, he tarried for not a second before climbing up after her, faster than her, even, with his powerful limbs. He had doffed his shoes too, and his jacket. 

Both tired, they dropped onto the edge of the waterfall, laughing as only teenagers can with this, the simplest of rule breaking. 

They were content, for awhile after to smirk at each other and toss rocks down into the pool, trying and failing to skip them from the height. 

They might have stayed there all night if they had not been interrupted by a scolding boom of a shout of, “Annalee Warthrop what the devil do you think you are doing?”

They both snapped their heads up. They had just sat back, their fingers nearly touching when the shout hadn come. Jack, Pellinore and Jacob Torrance stood on the other side of the fence looking in on them. Pellinore looked livid, Torrance, not so much. 

Erik laughed and called out, “Dad, this fucking girl!”


	5. Terrible Tricks

Warthrop did not think that he was going to be able to convince Anna: smart mouthed, antagonistic, eleven year old, Anna, to forgive him the slight of forcing her into a dress for the formal dinner. She had scowled at him the whole way across town, crossing her little arms over her chest. She had not even laughed when Will Henry had taken a wayward step into the refuse from a carriage horse. Although that might have just been loyalty. 

He was convinced she would remain angry at him all through the night. Her scowl seemed permanently affixed to her face. That was, at least, until she met John Chanler. The two of them were, immediately, as thick as thieves. He, delighted to meet the scowling little Warthrop, spent the entire meal filling her ears with the havoc he had visited upon her father throughout their education. This seemed to cheer her. 

She repaid his entertainment by beating him at Find the Lady the street game wherein you move three cards in rapid succession hoping to keep your opponent from guessing which is the Queen of Hearts. She was quite good. Pellinore suspected that if you were to turn over all three of her cards that none of them would be the queen and was quite confident that that particular card would only be found slid up her sleeve. But it was slightly mollifying to see John beaten at something.

It was, however, the end of the evening that had Warthrop concerned. He was no longer a foolish schoolboy and little Anna was quite a bit worse at hiding the mischievous glimmer in her eyes than was John. And there was no reason other than trickery for her to have spent so long in the water closet near the close of dinner and to have returned to share a conspiratorial glance with him. 

As they rose to retire from the dining room to the parlor Warthrop heard him whisper, “Is it all set up, Annie, above the door between the parlor and the hall?” She answered him with a wink. 

The Chanler household was arranged so that to travel between the formal dining room and the parlor, one had to walk down a short hallway, beginning with one door between the dining room and the hall, and ending with another, over which their trap was obviously set. 

Pellinore even considered allowing himself to be tricked, if only because she looked so gleeful about it. 

They rose from their chairs and Pellinore, resolute, began his journey toward the door. He did have all the way down the hall to decide. He was stopped from being first through the door only by the smallest of holds on his sleeve. He looked around. Anna’s little hand was gripped on the sleeve of his jacket.

With the swagger of confidence John always had right before the culmination of one of his pranks, he beamed at Pellinore and spun to walk backwards through the door to the hall, “Come on, Pell, don’t look so frightened. Don’t you think I’m above-” 

He was cut off by a ringing clatter and the squelching splash of a bucket of kitchen refuse splattering from the top of the door down onto his head. He stood, arms slightly outstretched in surprise and disgust. Even from here the food waste could be smelled. 

Anna laughed and looked up at her father. She clicked her heels together, threw him a wink, and saluted smartly. “Got your back, pop!”


	6. A Rare Night

“Stop shaking me, Anna, I’m up!” Will hissed at her. 

She grinned at him, giddy, “You ready?” She whispered.

Will bit his lip, “I’m not sure we should go...if the doctor finds out…”

Anna groaned, “Don’t be such a baby!”

Unfortunately for Will, he was as weak to that argument as any fifteen year old boy with a seventeen year old sister and desperate not to be a baby. “I am not a baby. I’m coming!” 

“Good,” Anna said, “We’ll go out your window, it’s closer to the tree.” 

Will wilted a little, “Is that why you asked me to come?” 

Anna got suddenly defensive, “No, William Dumbass Henry, I asked you to come because I thought you’d have a good time. You know I do actually like hanging out with you.” 

“Oh...can we bring Malachi?”

She laughed softly, “What? I’m not good enough company for you?” 

It was Will’s turn to get defensive, “No, its just that Erik is gonna be with us and…”

“Shut up, I already asked Malachi, he was over the moon, course we’re bringing Malachi.” 

Will grinned at her, “Thanks! Now come on, don’t be such a baby!” And with that, Will slipped out the window and began the climb down the tree. 

Anna, in silent laughter, followed after him, backpack slung over her shoulders. 

They only had to wait in the dark for fifteen minutes before Erik Torrance came up the street in his Mustang and they shot out of the shadows to climb in. Erik gave a sideways grin at Anna when she settled into the front seat, cramming Will into the muscle car’s sorry excuse for a backseat. 

“Hey, Warthrop,” He said, “Glad you could make it.” 

In the house, in the biggest bedroom, Jack pulled Pellinore back from the window, coaxing him back to bed, “Oh, come on Pellinore, they’ll be fine.” 

Pellinore glared at Jack and shifted so Jack’s hands fell off of his chest, “You expect me to allow my charge and my child to go running off into the night with the Torrance boy to god’s knows where?” 

“Of course not, Pell,” Jack chastised tapping his nose, “Do you trust me so little? I am wounded.” 

“What did you do?” 

“Saw their tickets, for one, they are going to a concert in Boston, they shan’t be up to much mischief, and she procured four of them. She would never voluntarily bring the shrill Lillian Bates, so I can only assume that they are collecting young Malachi, a mitigating force to hers to be sure.” 

“I do not trust the Torrance boy. A concert seems like a perfect venue to attempt something untoward.” 

Jack shrugged at this, “Either she welcomes his advances and there would be no stopping her on your part or on mine short of tethering her to the family couch, or she does not, in which case I feel rather sorry for young Mr. Torrance because she seems capable of devouring him alive. Not to mention little Will, who will not leave her side and would, I believe, defend her against a hungry tiger.” 

Pellinore, somewhat subdued, allowed Jack to pull him back to their bed by the hand, he leaned on it with one knee, but did not succumb. 

Jack growled in frustration, “I turned the GPS on on their phones, I know the police officers on duty in Boston, I even know the stage manager for the concert. I called all of them already, the children will be fine. Let them rebel a bit.” It seemed to cost Jack greatly to admit that he had gone to such lengths for the care of the two young charges he had found himself somewhat responsible for. 

But Pellinore was adequately mollified and a final tug from Jack had him dropping back onto the bed. Musingly Pellinore said, “You seem to have gone to some trouble to allow them their fun, Jack. You did it for something other than paternal sweetness, though, if I am at all familiar with you.” 

Jack rolled up so he hovered over Pellinore on the bed, a wicked smile on his face as he bore down on him, “Oh yes, Pellinore. While I do believe that a bit of rebellion is good for our little William, I am more than pleased to have come upon an evening where you are not working, I am not gone, and the children are out of the house, they are becoming quite rare.” 

Pellinore laughed, “What am I going to do with you, Jack?” 

Jack, who was now astride Pellinore, leaned over and pulled a bag from under the bed, he dumped it onto the coverlet revealing a number of gadgets of which Pellinore could decipher neither the providence nor the application, although the...general idea of their intended use did not escape him. 

Jack smiled, “Oh I hope you will do a great many things with me, my dear Pellinore.”


	7. Harrington Heartbreak

For two men of the caliber of Doctors John Kearns and Pellinore Warthrop, it was not difficult to discover that something between their two young charges was desperately amiss. 

It was a Sunday morning, a bit of a ritualistic day of the week for the household. Like all of their family decisions, it had come by natural evolution rather than demands from on high. Pellinore did not work on Sundays before noon, Jack did not leave for any new jobs if he was at all able to avoid it. Anna did not oversleep. Will was not at Malachi’s. None save for Will would have ever admitted that they adored their tradition. 

Pellinore made tea, Anna coffee. Will snuck off to the bakery for scones. Jack made pancakes. Usually, they all remained in their pajamas. There was no grand celebration, but they were all in the kitchen at the same time and sometimes they talked and sometimes they didn’t. Except for Jack, who always talked. 

Pellinore would have been privately disheartened that neither Anna nor Will were in the kitchen when he arrived at the regular time of seven a.m. Except that it was clear that this would not be a normal Sunday. 

Jack peered out the front window, “Her accursed motorbike is here, but it is tipped over in the driveway. Her coat is here also, and Will’s both just thrown on the ground. That is like her, but it isn’t like Will.” 

“The television is missing,” commented Pellinore from the living room. 

“Well we were not burglarized,” Jack said, “I have seen to the security of this house.” 

Together, Jack and Pellinore ascended the stairs to the bedrooms of the house’s children. The stopped at Anna’s first, by virtue of its location. 

Pellinore’s hand went to the knob but Jack swatted him, “For god’s sake, Pell, she is a seventeen year old girl, knock first.” Jack knocked and waited briefly, when there was no answer he went in. 

The room looked as though it had played host to a hurricane. The bed was mussed, there were odds and ends that appeared to have been hurled across the room, but, most tellingly, a picture frame lying on the ground, the frame cracked and the glass shattered. 

Gingerly, Jack lifted it and displayed his find to Pellinore, “I believe I have discovered the origin of the tumult.” 

The picture had been one of her favorites, she had moved it to the center of her little display of sentimentality. On the far left was Jack’s favorite, a picture of her and him that Will had taken. They had both fallen asleep, shoulders leaning on each other, her head dropped against his at one of her father’s speeches. Over it had been stuck a new one, she and Jack having cigars in Florence. 

The right side of her display was given over to her genetic father, the ‘dad’ to Jack’s ‘Motorcycle Dad.’ His was more austere. Her, looking nearly cleaned up, having won a prize at her school’s science show. Pellinore’s hand was on her shoulder and pride burned out of his eyes. Jack had caught it the moment that she looked up at him with one of her little sideways grins. Jack had a copy of that one also. 

She had one more photo that had remained unbroken of she and Will. They had gone with Pellinore on a trip to gather some kind of data to California. He had, after much pleading and a successful venture, allowed them a day at the beach. She was on the second half of her thirteenth year, Will just starting his twelfth. Both of them were scrawny and pale in their bathing suits. 

Jack would not have believed that Pellinore would have had the foresight to capture the moment if he did not have the proof before him. But the two of them were in the surf, locked in a terrible splash fight, their eyes screwed up, mouths split in laughter. 

The fourth photo was the one that Jack held out to Pellinore. The picture itself was not a bit torn and quite rumpled, but not entirely destroyed. It had been taken in a mall photo booth. Her and her beau, Erik Torrence, the sides of their faces pressed together, tongues stuck out. 

“I believe our dear Annalee has had her heart broken,” Jack said. 

“That still leaves a bit of evidence unaccounted for,” Pellinore added. 

“Not to mention a teenage girl.” 

Together they returned to the hall and proceeded to the ladder that led to Will’s little loft. Jack and Pellinore listened first at the trapdoor before they opened it. 

Will’s voice, stuffy and broken by sniffles, “More like 500 days of bullshit!” and the muffled sound of a thrown pillow. 

“Oh dear,” Jack said with a raised eyebrow to Pellinore. It was not often that Will Henry swore. 

Pellinore pulled open the door and peeked inside, Jack popping up next to him. Anna and Will were both in their pajamas, curled up together on Will’s bed. Jack did not know what ought to be more flabbergasting. The three empty boxes of ice cream that littered the floor or that they had managed to move the living room television into his loft. 

They were both ringed by used tissues and their faces were puffy. 

“Trouble in love’s sweet paradise?” Jack asked from the trap door. 

They answered for each other, the aggressing in their replies outlining the depths of their the crimes committed by their sibling’s paramours. Or rather, ex-paramours. 

Lillian Bates, for instance, had perhaps only broken Will’s tender heart, for Anna snarled, “I’m gonna leave burning dog shit on Lilly’s fucking doorstep. Screw her!” 

Erik Torrence may have committed a slightly more grievous offense because Will’s howled answer was, “If I stab Torrence in the gut he’ll take a long time to die, right Jack?” 

Pellinore pushed passed Jack into the room, while Jack answered him, “Could take more than an hour if you do it right.” 

Pellinore asked the obvious question, “What happened?” 

Their stricken faces answered him, although Will came to words first, “Lilly and I broke up.” 

“Anna?” 

She glowered and pulled a blanket up around her, “Erik Torrence is a scumbag whore who crawled from the rotting pits of hell coated in Dante’s shit river.” 

Will’s lover’s transgression might have been smaller, but his was the more tender heart and he appeared equally pained. But they snuggled against each other, commissary more paramount in their minds than competition over depth of heartache. 

Jack addressed her, “Did young Master Torrence play you false?” poison laced his tone. 

She sniffed, “While we were in Europe.” 

Pellinore, stooping in the low ceilinged room was rather moved by this and, somewhat awkwardly, took a seat beside her on the little bed. Immediately, with none of her regular reservations, shifted so that she was snuggled up against him. She pulled Will with her who was snuggled up against her. Not to be left out, Jack reclined on Will’s other side, draping his arm around the back of the bed. 

Will brightened up a little, “You gotta hear what she told him though, it was really good!” 

Jack chuckled, “Do you mean to tell me her response was not to break his jaw? Is this the Anna that I have met or have you been snatched away by someone else?” 

“No, this was, better,” Will said, “Ok, so dirtbag Erik grabs her hand and goes,” here he imitated Erik making him, somewhat cruelly, sound more like an ape than a young man, “‘Anna, don’t leave, lemme explain, I’m SORRY!’ Then Anna grabs her hand away and goes-” Will then changed to imitating his ersatz sister, raising the pitch of his voice but keeping it sounding nearly regal, “‘No, Torrence, you’re not.’” He leaned in for dramatic effect, “‘But you will be.’”

Jack hooted, “Did you really, Anna?” 

Blushing and a little proud of herself, she nodded into her blankets. 

Jack reached out and tucked back a lock of her dark hair, “That’s my girl.” 

“And Will Henry?” Pellinore asked, “How is it that you have become such a pathetic little thing?” 

Will sank, tucking his face into Anna’s shoulder. She, as he had, gave an explanation for him, “I think they just fell apart, he says that Lilly told him that she doesn’t think she ever really loved him. That it was some childhood crush that had gone on too long.” 

Pellinore, in a move that was quite un-Pellinore reached up and stroked Will’s hair. 

Jack swung up onto his feet, “Although it is only,” he checked his watch, “seven thirty in the morning, I do believe this calls for the food of heartbreak. I shall be shortly returned with pizza, disgusting premade cookie dough, and more ice cream.” 

Both teeneagers gave him big soft eyes of thanks. 

Pellinore moved to extricate himself from their grasps, “I suppose I can get on without you today, Will Henry. Do you want me to leave you to your sorrowful movie?”

Anna’s arms lashed out and pulled him back, “No.” 

Will’s much softer plea, “No, sir.” 

Jack shrugged at him and winked, “I’ll stop by Blockbuster than also, shall I? Pick up a good mix of bloodshed and heartache, have you children seen the Predator movies? I adore them.” 

They both shook their heads, “Alright, kiddies,” he said with a wiggle of eyebrows, “I’ll get them, and perhaps that one about the awkward girl who becomes a princess.”

Meekly Anna said, “Can you get Bridget Jones Diary?” 

“There is a horrific sequel also, would you like that too?” 

She nodded. 

“Of course, I’ll be back in a tic.”


	8. Family Camping Trip: Part 1 - Walmart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be part 1 of a number of them, they may not be posted one after another, but they will be posted in order.

**Family Camping Trip - Part 1: Walmart**

 

“Be quiet, John, we will be stopping at Walmart for snacks, as we always do, stop fussing,” Pellinore commanded from the driver’s seat. 

From the passenger’s seat John Chanler looked up from the map he had been inspecting, “What are you on about, Pell? I haven’t said a damn word.” 

“Oh, not you,” Pellinore corrected, “Jack, will you _stop_ ”

Jack, in as much of a huff as John said, “Really, Pellinore, you’ve put me in the backseat with Annalee and Will and you believe that it is me kicking the back of your seat?” 

“Yes,” Pellinore growled, “And if you do it again Kearns we will _not_ stop for snacks.” 

Twin choruses of despair came from the back, Anna’s, “Hey!” and Will’s. “Sir!” 

John turned around in his seat and grinned at the two children, “Course we’ll stop for snacks, I’ve gotta figure out our route anyway, Jack can run in for them.” 

Very quickly Pellinore added, “Anna can go with him…Will, you too.” He was not sure who would make the better emissary. Anna was more likely to be able to convince him to buy something other than the stomach turning snacks he usually chose but Will was more likely to try. Pellinore only counted his blessings that this Walmart did not stock caramelized spiders as Jack had procured for them on their last trip. And Jack was sure to be in true form today, unhappy as he was to have lost the front seat to Chanler. 

Warthrop pulled into the back of the Walmart parking lot and stalled the car. John got out so that he could fold down the seat and allow the three occupants of the back seat to scramble out. Jack emerged last, looking as though he were coming out of a decades long imprisonment. 

“Will Henry!” Warthrop called after him. 

The boy swung around, “I know, sir, trail mix, the kind with cranberries.” 

“Good boy.” 

Will ran a few steps to catch up with Anna and Jack. 

In the store, as Pellinore had predicted, Jack enacted his vengeance for his spot in the car. He filled his blue basket with pickle flavored chips, pork rinds, and a myriad other things none of the others would put into their mouths in a hundred years. Anna quietly followed after him, lifting snacks from his basket and returning them to the shelves to be replaced by something edible. 

“Am I actually expected to spend two days, I have seen the map, it will be thirty seven hours in that godforsaken car? And he expects me to spend it all crammed like a kipper in that excuse for a backseat? There are hardly any room for ourselves, let alone a cooler and any accoutrements. And my things strapped so precariously on the roof. If my rifle comes to any damage up there I will use it to slaughter each and every one of you, starting with Chanler. I will skin Warthrop for this one, truly, or that damnable Chanler-”

He continued in this vein, snarling under his breath. 

Will and Anna, who knew the game concocted by John Chanler and aided by Pellinore Warthrop, grinned at each other behind his back. It was not often that there was an opportunity to slip one over Jack Kearns and none of them wanted to be the one to slip up. 

Jack looked down at the M&M’s, Garden Salsa Sun Chips, and Combos that Anna had replaced in his basket and rounded on her, towering over her, “I will purchase the refreshments that I please, you whinging Warthrop, if I am going to be folded with you and the boy for near to forty god blasted hours!” 

“Hey,” she retorted, “I have to sit back there too!” 

He growled, “You are a half person, and I at least, do not smell like a _youth_.” He took a long sniff to make his point and stopped. His eyes closed and he looked as though he were experiencing very real pain, “William?” 

“Yes, Doctor Kearns?”

“Are you…” he took a prolonged breath to steady himself, “wearing Axe body spray?” 

Will shuffled his feet, “Lilly got it for me.” 

Jack looked as though he were about to have a hernia. Under his breath he murmured, “My Triumph is in the shop, my rifle is strapped to the top of a car that has not been washed this decade, and I am about to be trapped in the tiny backseat of a car for forty hours next to a boy who has drenched himself in the putrid rot of adolescence.”

Anna could barely contain herself, she stood behind his back, biting her fist to keep herself from laughing, so entertaining she found Jack’s despair. 

She chipped in, “Maybe when we get to Yellowstone dad and John can share a bro’s tent and you can stay in ours!” 

He swiveled, fixing her with his ire, “Maybe when we get to Yellowstone I can feed you to a bear.”

“Sir, we really ought to get the rest of the snacks.” 

Jack, entirely dejected, allowed the two adolescents to lead, gathering trail mix, sandwich fixings, and waters. In the juice aisle, Anna, now with her own basket, smacked Will when he tried to load up all blue gatorades, Pellinore’s flavor of choice. 

“Get him two, Will”

“I was getting some for everybody else, but I don’t know what kind they like.”

She rolled her eyes, “Red for me, purple for John, you like blue too you ass kisser, and grab Jack those gross yellow Gatorade Zero’s or whatever the diet version is called.” 

Will kicked at the floor, “I like green, I just never get it. I’m not an ass kisser.” 

She laughed at him, “I was just teasing, fine, get green, get yourself three though, you go through them so fast.” 

“When did you get Gatorade with Chanler?” Will asked her.

“He’s teaching me how to box, remember?” 

“Oh yeah.” 

Jack, silent, followed them, head thrown back as though his body were wracked by torment. 

Finished with their shopping, Jack begrudgingly tossed his wallet to Anna and they paid for their stuff and went back to the parking lot. Each of Jack’s footsteps dragged on his way back to the car. He was so dejected, glowering now at the ground, that he didn’t see it until he was almost there. 

While they had been shopping and, thanks to the kids, taking an extra long time shopping, Chanler and Pellinore had doubled back and traded the too small Daytona for Chanler’s expansive Mercedes SUV. 

Chanler hung out of the driver’s seat, smile creasing his face looking at Jack. Pellinore, arms crossed and leaning on the big car, could not help but smirk. 

Jack looked between the car and Pellinore.

Pellinore said, “They called about your motorcycle, by the way, it will recover from the damage inflicted, no need to worry.”

Jack lit up, “And my rifle?”

“Safely in the back.” 

“And myself?” 

“Still in the back, but in your own seat.” 

Jack stalked toward him, shoved him by the hips against John’s car and kissed him on the mouth with great purpose. 

John wolf whistled and both teenagers made noises of objecting disgust. 

Pellinore, face brilliantly red, pushed Jack off of him and straightened his shirt, not looking at the others, “We ought to be leaving, we have a long trip ahead of us” 

They piled back into the car, Will distributing the snacks. He had long ago learned that if he did not give out the snacks he would be left with only dregs. It had become slightly better after Anna’s arrival, she usually made sure he got something he liked. 

She showed this quality now, she winked at him and slipped him a pack of Now and Laters. These were a difficult snack to come by. He loved them, but so did Jack. Will smiled at Anna and took the far back seat with the cooler, the better to eat his treat without Jack stealing it. This would also make him the drink distributor, which was a job he was expected to do anyway. 

“Damnit!” Anna said, looking through her backpack. 

“Annalee!” Warthrop chastised, he had recently decided to crack down on her foul mouth. 

She whined, “I forgot my headphones.” 

“Did not,” Will said, handing them up, “I grabbed them.”

She looked back in her seat as they pulled out of the parking lot, “Why’d you take them?” 

“Cuz you always forget them.” 

“Thanks, Will” 

John, overpowering Warthrop in the game for the radio, turned on his classic rock, loud enough to tune out his front seat companion and turned onto the highway.


	9. Family Camping Trip - Part 2: Roadside Motels

**Family Camping Trip - Part 2: Roadside Motels**

In the overall planning of the trip, there had been made a few crucial errors. 

The first was putting Will so far into the back of the car. Being Will, he said nothing as his discomfort grew. His attempt to distract himself by playing pokemon on his gameboy with Anna. Hers was semi translucent purple, his was green. He won the battle, which helped, but staring down at the little screen made him feel infinitely sicker. 

Finally, sure that he would be ill at any moment he said, in a quaking voice, “Doctor Warthrop?” When the doctor did not turn around from all the way in the passenger’s seat he tried again, “Sir?” 

Anna rattled her father’s chair, “Dad, your assistant is calling you sadly from the back.”

Doctor Warthrop turned to peer back at Will, “What is it Will Henry?” 

“Sir,” He said, “I don’t feel well.” 

“It is motion sickness, Will Henry, there is a bucket in the back.” 

Both Jack and Anna, only two seats up had something to say about this. If Warthrop had been driving, no doubt he would have kept going, allowing Will to puke himself to dehydration in the back. John Chanler was a little more sympathetic.

“Don’t worry, Will, there’s a rest stop in a few miles, can you hold out till then?” 

Will didn’t say anything, but he nodded to Anna who interpreted for him. 

John pulled his big Mercedes into the rest stop and Will immediately clambered out, drawing the fresh air into his lungs and bending down to rest his hands on his knees. 

“Sit on the ground, Will Henry,” Warthrop said, “Put your head between your knees.” 

Will did as he was instructed and the other milled about around him, taking the opportunity to stretch their legs. 

After about five minutes Jack hauled Will up to his feet, “Come now, little Willy, time to go. Although you might want to stop off at the restrooms, you already drank two of your gatorades.” 

As Will’s little body was heaved up he lost it, splattering sick all over Jack’s pants and shoes. 

Jack swore and scampered back, but the puke was already there, stinking on his clothes. 

John exploded into laughter, “Ha, he got you good, Jacky boy!” 

Filled with vitriol and disgust, Jack opened the back door of the Mercedes and dug around between bins of camping supplies for his bag. He roughly tore out new pants, shucking his pants in the parking lot. He had packed what he usually packs for excursions, which was these travel pants. They were designed to be washed by hand. He had no others. Nor did he have extra shoes. He had not yet acclimated to excursions that might end with a kid’s puke all over him. 

“ _Pellinore_ ” he hissed, “Come here.” 

Pellinore rounded the car, “Yes, Jack, are you not capable of cleaning off vomit yourself?” 

“I did not bring spare pants, Pell,” he hissed, “Just my travel things.” 

Pell shrugged, “You will have to wear a pair of mine, you know which bag is mine.”

Unhappily Kearns dress himself in Pellinore’s spare cargo shorts, which looked frumpy and ridiculous and Chanler’s flip flops. The only benefit he had was a small change in seating arrangement. Will was moved by direct edict of John who refused to have more puke in his car to the passenger’s seat. 

Warthrop ousted Anna from the middle and put her, well dosed with Dramamine against her getting sick too, into the far back. So although Kearns had to persevere in horrific shorts and ridiculous sandals, he did get to sit next to Pellinore. He immediately turned sideways and reclined against the side of the car, draping his legs over Pellinore’s. 

That is how they passed the next day of driving. 

As it got dark and they pulled into the town where they would be staying, John looked back and said, quietly enough not to wake the children, or Kearns who were all asleep, “Ok, Pell, where is the hotel?” 

Pellinore dug out a slip of paper from his pocket and, after flipping on the overhead light said, “It is called the Red Rocks Motel. Our reservation is for ten o’clock PM until seven AM tomorrow. Here is the address.” 

He handed the paper up to Chanler. 

Jack was staring at him. 

John looked back at him through the rear view mirror. 

“Was I unclear?” He asked, “Have I begun to speak in tongues?” 

Jack stared up at the ceiling, “Warthrop, why were you so very specific about the times?” 

Pellinore looked at him, “The hotel takes out rooms by the hour.” 

John cursed, “Are you fucking with me, Pellinore?” 

“It was the most economic option.” 

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, “We have children with us, Pellinore.” 

“Yes, they are quite expensive.”   
Right off the highway John found it. Its neon lights blinked, half of them broken. There was a small office to stop in then two lines of rooms that opened to the parking lot with a rickety staircase to the second level. 

Jack had sat up, his muscles were tense. In the light of their headlights they saw a balding middle aged man enter a room with two short skirted girls. 

Warthrop opened the door, obviously with the intention of getting out to go to the office, Anna, who had only just woken and had not heard the conversation piped up, “Can I come in with you?” 

“Fine,” Pellinore said. 

Kearn’s fist clenched, but Anna followed her father outside. 

“He won’t budge on it, you know,” Chanler said defeatedly from the front. 

It took a single glance out of the window and the sight of a greasy fifty year old’s eyes crawling over Anna for Jack to stalk out his own door and seize them both, Pellinore by the collar, Anna protectively around the shoulders. 

“Get back in the car,” he said. His voice was chilly, sliced free of emotion. Anna he walked back, blocking the door after her. 

Pellinore scowled at him, “It is a single night Ja-”

“Get. in. the. car.” Jack said through gritted teeth. 

Frowning at Jack, Warthrop did as he was bade. 

“Chanler, lock the doors, Warthrop stay here with him and the children. I will go inside,” he sounded much less like Jack and much more like Dr. John Kearns now. For some reason his hand passed over his back pocket where his wallet resided. He carried on in his directives, “I will get a phone book, we will find somewhere else.” 

Warthrop huffed, “Come now, Jack, there is no reason-”

“No, Warthrop, I refuse to allow you to lead our children into this den of dissolutes. I would keep us locked in the car in a parking lot over this pit. I will fetch a phone directory and we will leave.” 

With that he swept away from the car, slammed the door and motioned for John to lock the doors. Which he promptly did. 

Warthrop had seen his mistake by then, of course, but was too stuck on Jack calling Annalee and Will Henry ‘our children,’ do make any arguments for himself. 

Jack was only a few minutes before he came back, “I called a Super 8 up the street, they have a single vacancy, I took it, go now John. Do not tarry.” 

John did not tarry, but pulled out of the parking lot with all haste, bringing them to the unglamorous but relatively safe Super 8. 

Jack left the luggage to Pellinore, rousing Will and Anna and bringing them inside to check in. Pellinore did not miss that his hand went protectively to each of their heads to muss their hair then lingered around them, keeping them close. Something about his demeanor made them gravitate to him, nearly bumping against him as they walked. 

A few minutes later they were all installed in a quite small room with a single queen bed and a cot squashed by their demand under the window. Warthrop assumed he and Jack would sleep on the bed, John on the cot and the children on the floor. Jack, in enough of a temper to have taken sole authority, had other arrangements in mind. Only when the lock clicked behind them did he let them out of his immediate reach to setting in and change into pajamas. 

“Both of you,” He said to Anna and Will, “You will take the bed, I will join you. Chanler, have the cot.” 

“And me?” Warthrop asked.

Jack looked him over as though he were rotting meat, “Sleep wherever you wish, Warthrop, your standards for accommodation are clearly far beneath the rest of ours.” 

Anna was sent to the bathroom to change and the rest of them changed into their pajamas in the sleeping area. Jack, instead of his regular stripping to barely anything, wore sweatpants and an old t-shirt. Pellinore knew for a fact that he had packed one of Pellinore’s own tshirts to use as sleeping ware, but Jack had not made use of it. 

Jack did not so much as look at Pellinore as he herded Will and Anna through brushing their teeth and getting them tucked in. He slipped in behind Will, laying between them and the window. 

There was nothing else for it, Pellinore could hardly remember the last time he had seen Jack angry and to argue with him seemed akin to punching a wasp nest. 

“May I at least have a pillow, Jack?” 

Jack hissed back, “You will wake the children, bundle up a coat, I don’t care.” 

John, the third party to this domestic tension raised his eyebrows and disappeared beneath his blanket to feign sleep and keep himself out of it. 

Pellinore begrudgingly did as Jack had suggested, making himself a horribly uncomfortable bed on the floor. The silence in the room was absolute for many long minutes. Pellinore watched Jack’s silhouette, obviously unsleeping, far too tense for that. 

Her voice, even in a whisper, cut the silence, “Jack? You’re… are we in…” she seemed to be having trouble giving voice to her feelings, “Is something happening?” 

It was normal for Jack’s voice to posses a leonine quality, usually it was a seductive purr of a stalking beast. But his reply did not sound like the Jack Pellinore was accustomed to, more leonine in the quality of a wild mane’d male protecting his pride. “Rest easy, Anna, nothing is going to happen to you.” He lifted his arm and dropped it over them both. 

On the floor, Pellinore felt very chilly.


	10. Genetic Progeny

Anna had been just shy of her thirteenth birthday when she had been brought to Harrington Lane. Will had been under Warthrop’s care for a little more than a year. 

She had been preceded by a New York City social worker. The social worker whose name Warthrop could not recall, had had a tight smile. Overworked, and hardened of heart. If she had been assigned to Anna’s case twenty years ago she might have been sweeter, withheld more to convince the man before her to take this girl. 

Warthrop, of course, had known she was coming. He had gotten the phone call the day previous. Will had answered, as usual, but quickly handed the phone off to Warthrop who had been elbows deep in a cadaver at the time and balanced the phone between his shoulder and his ear. 

“This is Doctor Warthrop.”

The voice on the other end was one deadened to giving out hard news, “Pellinore Warthrop, I am calling to inform you are the next of kin to a child now in the New York City foster system.” 

Warthrop had been rendered speechless for a moment. Of all things he had expected, it had not been _that._ “I beg your pardon?” The tone he used conveyed, ‘if this is a mistake it is one you will regret.’ 

“I will assume you were not aware of her existence. She has been in the foster system for two years but her recent processing through the Juvenile Detention database has alerted us that her biological father is a candidate for her care.” 

“Her biological-” Warthrop turned away from Will Henry who looked on with curiosity, “You cannot mean _me_.” The match had to have been made in error. Certainly his DNA was on file, he had been arrested before in his line of work, usually for trespassing. But in order to have sired a child he would have had to- 

Warthrop closed his eyes, ice ran through his veins, “How old is the child?” 

“Thirteen.” 

Muriel. He had been abandoned by Muriel thirteen years ago, a bit more now, the right amount more. He had jumped from a bridge. But before he had jumped. He had tried not to remember, ashamed and confused by his dalliance. And he had left her with child. She had never contacted him, not that she would have known how. The woman might have known his name, but nothing more. He did not remember hers, only that she had not thrown him out when he called her Muriel.

“Sir,” the voice continued, sharp and direct, probably with a thousand other calls to make, “Sir, we would like to send a social worker to meet with you to address you taking over the girl’s care.” 

The girl. He had a daughter. A thirteen year old daughter that had been already sent through the Juvenile Detention center. Genetic progeny. A human made of fifty percent his biological material. 

“Sir? Would you consent to a meeting with a social worker?” 

“What? Yes. I will meet with a social worker.” They set the date, the very next day. They must be in a hurry to be rid of the girl. He had forgotten to ask her name. Would she be sickly? He had been sickly. 

“...Doctor Warthrop?” Will Henry asked shyly, “Sir...what that about me? Is there a problem with…”

“No, Will Henry,” he snapped, “Clean the house, clean everything, I will help you. Everything. Do I make myself clear?” 

“But sir, if it isn’t about me why is there a social worker coming?” 

Warthrop took a steadying breath, it would be easier not to tell him, but he did have to be told, “It seems that I have...genetic progeny.” That was easier than saying ‘daughter.’ 

Will Henry seemed to shrink, “You have a.... do you mean you have a..”

“A daughter, Will Henry, is there anything between your ears? I have a daughter and I will meet with a social worker tomorrow about overtaking her care.” 

Will Henry looked away, “Sir? Does that mean?....Will she...Are you going to send me away?” 

Rather waspishly he said, “Of course not, Will Henry. Have I not been clear? Your services are indispensable to me. Do you take me for a liar?” 

“No, sir,” But he could see that the boy was relieved. 

____________

The social worker arrived, fifteen minutes late, to a spotlessly clean Harrington Lane. It was cleaner than it had ever been, ever since his father had been alive. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Warthrop,” She had said. Her clothing was drab, and underpaid civil servant. Her hair a dull brown and pulled into a lifeless bun. Her eyes were sharp but not vibrant. 

“Doctor Warthrop,” He corrected. He had showered and shaved, dressed himself well. He kept interrupting his own lines of thinking with ‘genetic progeny,’ and ‘juvenile detention,’ in equal measure. 

“Doctor Warthrop,” she conceded, “May I come in?” But she was already inside, making notes on his home. 

“You are unmarried, is that correct?” She asked. 

“Yes.” 

“But our records indicate that you have an income in the acceptable range. And you care for another child already, is that correct? William Henry?” 

“Yes.” 

She checked more boxes, “I must ask you, Doctor Warthrop, are you interested in overseeing your daughter’s care?” 

Was there anything else he could answer? Of course he had not wanted to care for a child. He had not wanted to sire a child. For god’s sake he had not even wanted Will Henry. But did one not owe care to one’s genetic offspring? He was only vaguely aware of the state of the foster system, but he could not take for granted that to abandon her would be leaving her in adequate care. He wanted to call John Chanler, he would have an opinion on the dues of a father. For an absurd reason he wanted to call Jack Kearns. 

It was this, the going through of people who would tell him the duty he owned this creation of his that struck him down. John would tell von Helrung and von Helrung would tell him to take the girl. Tell him he had no choice, that it was an _opportunity_. Ask him how he could ever consider not taking her. 

“Yes, I am interested in overtaking her care.” 

“Good,” another check mark, “Then we will proceed, may we sit down, Dr. Warthrop. I am afraid there is quite a bit to go over before we set up a meeting between the two of you. I will also have to interview William. Will that be alright?” 

He gave her a seat, and tea, at the kitchen table. He had forgotten about big this table was when it was free of clutter. 

“Now, Doctor, I do have to forewarn you, particularly since this house in the home to a minor. The girl has a history of violent offences.” 

“What sort of violent offences?” 

She did not hesitate or sugar coat, she was hardly an advocate for the girl. She sounded nearly as if she was trying to convince him not to take her in, “The child in question spent the first eleven years of her life in the care of her biological mother, Miss Lola Mead and a series of boyfriends, none of whom we have the names of. When she was eleven the police discovered the minor in possession of a firearm surrounded by the remains of Miss Mead and a man Lewis Griffon who had known gang affiliations.”

“She killed them? An eleven year old girl killed an adult woman and a gang affiliate?” 

“She was not charged with the crime, it was ruled she acted in self defense. When apprehended by the police officers her clothing was torn and she had suffered injury.” 

“What injury?” 

She checked her notes, “Three broken ribs, a cracked wrist. Minor contusions to her face and hands. A ruptured kidney that required surgery. Severe bruising. No evidence of sexual assault. When the officers entered the apartment she held them at gunpoint before she could be disarmed.” 

Some foreign impulse made him want to defend her. Something grated against him. ‘The girl,’ ‘The minor,’ ‘The child in question.’ 

“What is her name?” 

The social worker checked to make sure, “Annalee Muriel Warthrop.” 

For the second time in as many days Warthrop was rendered speechless. He had been prepared for her surname to be ‘Mead.’ Although truth be told it was the middle name that really gave him pause. That seemed astoundingly cruel on the part of her mother. 

“I would like to meet her.” 

“I am required to inform you of a complete history of her criminal involvement.” 

“Yes, fine, go on.” He snapped.

“After the dismissal of her murder charges, she entered into the New York City foster system. Within two weeks in her first home she was flagged as a difficult child. For the next year she did not last more than a month at any home.” 

“Was she violent?” 

“Frequently.”

“Against any of the other children?” 

She checked her records, “No, three assaults against caretakers, only one against another minor, a seventeen year old boy, she blinded him.”

“And she was charged with that?” 

“Yes, it was again dismissed,” it was clear from her tone that she did not wholly agree with the dismissal. 

“Why was I not discovered during these processes?” 

“Searching for family members through genetic testing is a relatively recent program. It is in its fledgling stages.” 

“So now, what was she most recently arrested for?” 

“Possession with intent to distribute illegal substances.” 

“Drugs? She was selling drugs? At thirteen?” 

“I believe she was running drugs, cocaine, specifically. She was apprehended after having swallowed a plastic bag of it. She would not divulge the names of those she was moving the drugs for. That was what put her up for candidacy to search for a more permanent home. We believe she might be in danger in New York City,” It was obvious that this woman thought that any trouble this girl was in had been brought down on her own head. Not ‘this girl,’ Annalee. Annalee Warthrop, his daughter. 

His own father would not have taken her. But it was not Allistair Warthrop’s voice he heard in his head, it was von Helrung’s, ‘ _All the more reason to help her, Pellinore. She needs you.’_

“Is that all I need to be informed of?” He asked tersely.

“Yes, do you still wish to arrange a meeting?” 

“Yes.” 

“We can arrange to have her brought here in a few days.” 

“No, I can come to New York. I have...family there. I believe that would be preferable.” 

“Yes, good. Write the address here.” 

He did and then the woman left. She never did speak to Will Henry, she seemed in quite a hurry to get out the door. 

He ought to have called von Helrung first, as it was his house he had abducted to use as a meeting place. But his first call was to John Chanler. 

“Hey, Pell!” John said when he picked up the phone, “Can I call you back? I’m-”

“No. This is important.” 

“Alright, Pell. Are you okay? Is Will?” 

“Yes, no one is injured. I have just met with a social worker from New York.” 

“Shit, about Will? There isn’t a problem is there? You want me to make some calls? Why from New York?”

“No, will you be quiet and listen? It was not about Will.”

“If it wasn’t-” He paused and pieced it together, “Fuck me, Pell. _Really?_ I mean, are they sure?” 

“Yes, John. We are a...genetic match. I have a daughter. She is thirteen.” 

If he did the math, which Pellinore was sure that he did, John would have figured it out. But he didn’t say anything except, “So...what? She wants to meet you?” 

“Her mother is dead. She is in the foster system. They are asking me to take her in.” 

John laughed, but more a laugh of disbelief than amusement, “You gonna do it, Pell?” 

“I believe that I must.” 

“Yeah, but do you want to?” 

Pellinore took a long moment to think over that, “I am not sure.” 

“Do you need anything? I could drive down. Or take Will for a few days. Where is she now?” 

“I...do not come down. I am coming up in a few days to meet her in New York. I was hoping to do it at von Helrung’s. I didn’t think he would mind. Now she is in a Juvenile Detention Center.” 

He swore again, “Juvey? Really? For what?” 

Warthrop sighed, “Transporting cocaine.” 

“Fucking Christ! Thought you said she was thirteen!”

“That is far from the most egregious of her crimes.” He related all of them to Chanler, unburdening himself on his friend. This was so far outside the things he thought about he was not sure what sort of logic to use. John, he hoped, might provide some guidance. 

“Shit, Pell,” he said, “Sounds like a tough kid. Think you can do it?” 

“No. I don’t know. But, John, she is my daughter. I do have to try, do I not?” 

“She’s your kid.” 

“I am aware of that, John.”

“Call me when you get to New York.” 

“Of course.” 

He hung up, then called von Helrung. That conversation went much like the call to John, with considerably less cursing. Of course von Helrung would allow them to meet in his home. He was honored Pellinore had suggested it. Yes, the girl sounded troubled. 

His last comment stayed with Pellinore through the next two days and the whole drive to the city, “I am proud of you for taking her in, Pellinore.” 

When he had hung up with von Helrung he held his phone, glowering at it. He felt the desire to call Jack Kearns. Jack would have something to say. Not something helpful, but something. He put the phone down. His progeny had nothing to do with Jack. 

Two days later he was driving to New York, Will Henry in the passenger seat. Will had been even more quiet than usual the last few days. 

“Will Henry,” He ventured, “This will not change how- You remain indispensable to me.” 

Will didn’t answer that, but after a moment he said, “What do you think she’ll be like, sir?” 

“I don’t know, Will Henry. We shall soon see.” 

________

Von Helrung threw his arms around Warthrop the moment he knocked on the old man’s door. “Oh, Pellinore, my dear Pellinore! I have been on bated breath waiting for you. How are you feeling? Oh, Pellinore!” 

“Yes, I am fine. Anxious perhaps.” 

They waited in silence in von Helrung’s living room. It took thirty minutes passed their scheduled time. The knock came. Pellinore swooped to his feet, Will shrank back, von Helrung opened the door. 

The social worker from before came in after her, she brought with her Annalee Muriel Warthrop.

The girl was so scrawny, too short for thirteen, of height with the eleven year old Will Henry. She looked malnourished. Deep purple marks under her eyes. A healing bruise over one of them. She wore jeans torn at the knees, boy’s sneakers. Her t-shirt was dirty and too large for her. It made her appear even smaller. 

She had his hair, dark and wavy. It had been cut short around her ears, but poorly as though with a kitchen shears. But it was her face that had captured him. For it was his face in the feminine miniature. His dark eyes, his high cheekbones, his slender chin. Even his scowl, which now turned her face down in a malcontent glower. 

“Annalee, smile,” the social worker commanded, “This is your father, Pellinore Warthrop. Dr, Warthrop, this is your daughter Annalee.” 

She did not smile, but turned her face up to his. Her scowl sat on her face as though it were the natural inclination of her features. Her eyes betrayed no curiosity, no fear, no anxiety. They betrayed nothing. Unbidden, he thought again of Jack Kearns. 

His brain fed him the list of the things he knew about her. Killed her mother and a gang affiliate. Blinded a boy. Her clothing was torn. A ruptured kidney. Three broken ribs. Transporting drugs.

When Pellinore failed to affect a more welcoming introduction and only traded stares with her, von Helrung came forward, “Welcome, Annalee, welcome! I am a good friend of your father’s this is my home. We have all been looking forward to meeting you.” 

She glanced at von Helrung, but didn’t address him, she shoved her hands into her pockets. Then she saw Will, peeking around Warthrop. 

“Hey,” she said. She stuck out her hand to shake his. 

He stepped forward awkwardly, and took her hand, “I’m Will Henry.” He released her hand.

She glanced around at Warthrop, then von Helrung, then back at Warthrop. She didn’t say a word. 

“Why don’t you tell them about yourself?” The social worker pressed. 

She grimaced and looked Warthrop in the eye and said the first thing his daughter would ever say to him, “Nice to meet you, doc, you fucked my mom and I fucked her over.”

von Helrung made a small unsettled noise, Will went terrifically pink. But Warthrop sort of chuckled, “That sums it up rather succinctly.” He could not help but think of him again when she said it, Jack Kearns, it was something he would have thought terribly funny. 

__________________

They stayed there for a few days while Warthrop worked out the requisite paperwork. Annalee did not speak. Her ‘Hey’ to will and her brusque introduction to her father were her only communications. She just lurked, appearing in doorways looking through those big eyes at people. She ignored von Helrung’s attempt to teach her chess, just sitting behind to board staring at him. Ignored her father’s awkward attempts at conversation. She acted as though all of this was summarily unimportant. 

The most illuminating event happened on the second evening while they were at dinner. They had been eating quietly. Her silence was both heavy and infectious. Warthrop sat next to her, he kept looking down at her, drawn in by his own features looking back at him. It had been such a small thing, he would not, for the rest of his days, forget it. 

A fly landed on his hand and he reflexively flicked his hand to get it away. Perhaps he had been a little severe. Her whole body had reacted, tensing and throwing up her hands over her face. Her eyes screwed shut. It had taken no shouting for him to become a threat, no posturing with a weapon, the flick of a hand.

She fled as soon as she saw everyone staring at her.

____________

They skipped an introduction with John, thinking she should be given time to acclimate. Pellinore loaded her and her garbage bag full of petty belongings into his Daytona and drove her and Will home. 

She remained quiet for an entire month. Pellinore almost forgot she was in the house. He went back to work with Will at his side. She lurked absolute silence. For nearly four weeks. And then it began. 

Warthrop, hearing a colossal crash pelted upstairs and threw open Annalee’s door. Her dresser had been knocked onto the floor, the wood splintered and broken. She stood next to it and gave him a shrug. He did not know how to respond to this. If he had done this as a child his father would have bent him over his knee and hit him with a belt. 

Obviously this would not be an acceptable approach. 

He didn’t know what to do. “Annalee did you just shove that over? Why?”

She shrugged again, looking through those dead eyes at him. 

She carried on. She broke dishes and got into fights with boys down the street. She tore his books and broke his things. 

He raged and questioned, dressed her down in livid Warthropian rants. She just stared at him. Sometimes though, when he was in a true tear her eyes glittered as though daring him. 

Entirely lost he called, von Helrung, “I don’t know what to do with her?” 

“We knew she was troubled, Pellinore. Perhaps...Perhaps we ought to call on Muriel.” 

“Why?” Pellinore asked, “What could she possibly do?” 

“Perhaps she needs a woman’s touch.” 

“I don’t know that Muriel would survive the encounter.” He didn’t want to call Muriel, he didn’t want to see her or hear her voice. “I have an idea. If it does not work I will call you about Muriel.” 

He hung up with von Helrung and made the call he had not wanted to make. The call he had thought about making since the day he had found out about her. He had to look up the number, the calls were always the other way around. 

It rang on the other side many times before it was answered, “Pellinore!” came the purred voice of Jack Kearns, “I believe this might be a first. To what do I owe this momentous occasion?” 

“I….I believe that I require your aide, Jack.” And he related the story of the newest addition to his household. 

The line was dead quiet on the other end, softly with an edge he finally responded, “You have a daughter, Pellinore?” 

“So it seems.” 

“And her mother is-”

“Dead.” 

“And you want me to help you with her poor behavior? I am not a nanny.” 

“Please, Jack. I am asking you to help me.” 

A heavy sigh from the other end, “I can be there by tomorrow, Pellinore.” 

_______________

Pellinore had not even heard Jack come in, he discovered him quite by accident the next morning, sitting across the table from Annalee. They both stared each other down with slightly tilted heads. 

Jack looked up at Pellinore and winked, then looked back at the girl. 

Pellinore lurked in the doorway, watching the exchange. 

Seventeen minutes passed, a long and absolute silence. 

It was her who broke it, as Jack had been waiting for, “I’m Annalee.” 

He grinned, “You can call me Jack.” 

A sideways grin Pellinore had not seen yet, “I can call you Jack or your name is Jack?”

Jack laughed, “Well my name is John, but I like Jack.” 

“I like Anna.” 

He went back to staring at her, and she at him. Another pause and she commented, “You have a motorcycle. I heard it.” 

“I do have a motorcycle.”

An even longer pause followed this one, then she set her shoulder and said, “Have you ever killed anybody? You look like you have.” 

Jack shrugged, “Yes. Have you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Quite accomplished, I hear, for a girl of thirteen.” 

“Yeah, that’s what they tell me.” 

Jack leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the table. A minute later she did the same thing. “Do you like Pellinore?” 

“Huh?” 

“It’s a simple question, your newfound father. Do you like him?” 

“He works with dead people and he yells at morons, but like, in really sick ways. I guess he’s cool. What do you think?” 

Jack smirked, “Oh, I think Pellinore is very cool.” He glanced at Pellinore who was still lurking and gave him a sultry wink. 

“What do you do you do?” 

“Right now I am a bounty hunter.” 

“Wicked.” 

He grinned at her, “Quite.” Then he looked up at Pellinore and said, “I don’t know why you’ve been having such trouble, she seems perfectly likable to me.” He swung his feet of the table and stood, “Anna, has anyone purchased you clothing that fit you in your memory?” 

“Nah.” 

“And tell me, are you afraid riding on a motorcycle?” 

Her face lit up, it was more expression than she had ever shown Pellinore, “No!” 

“Come on then, it shall be grand.”

She beat him out the door and Jack lingered, standing altogether too close to Pellinore, “I do hope you will make this worth my time, Pellinore,” he purred. Then he stepped away with a lively jaunt and headed out the door with the girl.


	11. Family Camping Trip: Part 3 - The Transitive Property

**Family Camping Trip: Part 3 - The Transitive Property**

The morning dawned bright through the Super 8’s cheap shutters. Pellinore was already awake, had barely slept in fact on the cold and hard floor with only a coat to cushion his head and no blanket to keep him warm. At about four in the morning he had given up the cause for lost and showered for the day. 

The hotel offered a continental breakfast, but it did not start until seven and after his shower it was only four fifteen. He had a half finished journal from the Society that he would very much like to be reading, but John had locked the car and he was not sure where the keys were. To his utmost dismay, the only lights in the hotel room were a single overhead light which would illuminate the whole sleeping area or the flickering light of the bathroom. 

Struck with sudden inspiration, he seized his phone and flipped it open, intending to use it as a flashlight and suss out John’s keys. But only blackness stared back at him. He had not plugged it in the night before and the battery had run out. 

Unsure where his bag had gotten to, he had put his pajamas back on after his shower and, with nothing else to keep him occupied, he left the room, glad that, at least, he knew where a keycard was. 

For a few minutes he perused the pamphlets that were stacked up in the lobby. This town did not have much of interest but it was something to do. 

“Can’t sleep, honey?” 

He swivelled around, suddenly uncomfortable in his cotton pants that hung a few inches too short and his well worn t-shirt. His feet were bare. 

“Excuse me?” 

It had been the woman who was working behind the hotel desk, a boring job to be sure at this time of the morning. She was either an unfortunate thirty something or a rather well aging forty something woman. Overdyed hair that frizzed so much it appeared that it would snap off at the slightest contact. 

“Well, you aren’t in your jams lookin’ at a pamphlet for the biggest yarnball in the Continental U.S. because you got a business meeting to run off to,” she said and she smiled at him. 

“Oh, well no, I did have some trouble sleeping, no matter.” He tried to turn back to the pamphlets. 

“You here alone?” 

He turned back to her and saw her less than subtle gaze travel up his long body. He shifted with discomfort, “No. I am here with my… I am here with my daughter and...others.” 

“Her mom not so much for road trips?” 

“Her mother is dead.” 

The woman’s drawn on eyebrows raised, “Gotcha.” 

He did not like this line of questioning and turned to go back up the stairs. 

“You forgot your book!” She called after him.

“Yes, thank you,” he said, and he took the book that sat on the table by the desk without thinking. It was not his, of course, but he took it and fled back to his room. But at the very least it was a book, it would keep him occupied. 

He secluded himself in the bathroom to entertain himself until it was late enough that he could at least eat. He sat on the toilet and looked at the book he had inadvertently stolen. He groaned. Could it not have been any other sort of book? The cover was an image of a shirtless man with rippling pectorals who stood with a hammer over his shoulder on a partially completed deck. It was engraved with the rather ominous title of ‘ _Daddy Heartthrob: Single and Ready to Mingle._ ’ 

But it was all that Pellinore had with more than two hours to go. He forged ahead. He made it fifty pages into the poorly constructed drivel, which took him about thirty minutes. It was on this page that they story devolved into a romantic interlude of questionable anatomical plausibility. He snapped it shut, color rising on his face. That had been an inappropriate situation to call someone a term of paternal affection. 

He dropped the book to the floor and groaned softly. It was just passed five in the morning. He wanted to sleep. He wondered if Jack would mind if he scooted in behind him. Yes, yes Jack would probably mind. He could not even get his own book from the car. 

Ordinarily he would have just turned on the light and gotten what he needed. Well, ordinarily he would have ordered Will Henry and Anna off the bed and finished the night there. But Jack had been so angry the night before. He did not want to do anything that might cause a resurgence of that. He already sort of dreaded what the morning would bring as far as Jack’s temper. 

Pellinore crept back out into the main room and watched Jack’s chest rise and fall in the barest beginnings of light coming into the window. It was possible that he had deserved the anger. But how ought he have known what sort of establishment he had selected? It had been the economical choice. Jack was overreacting, it was not as though he were sending Anna and Will into a den of lions. He steered himself away from that line of thinking. 

Jack had called the two, ‘our children,’ which was not correct. An ignorant observer the night before might have thought Jack to be the children’s father, but he was not. Will was in Pellinore’s care but he was most certainly not his son. He was his assistant. He might, on occasion, stretch so far as to call Will family, but certainly not a son. Will did not need a father. Will had a father. He was just dead. 

Anna was a different matter, she was indeed Pellinore’s child, but not Jack’s, although the two shared an undeniable kinship. Jack might be living in the house, might be associating with Pellinore, but that did not make them...they certainly weren’t.... Jack was not his.... It came down to a clear distinction. Anna and Will were certainly not Jack’s children, let alone _theirs_. 

Something about this distinction picked at Pellinore. It did not entirely account for all evidence. Such as a three months ago when Jack had skipped a trip after a bounty to stay home with a very sick Anna. Or his purchasing of a t-shirt bearing the name of Will’s community youth baseball team. 

In his sleep, Jack’s arm was still draped over both Will and Anna. Remembering something he had seen Pellinore stooped and picked up Jack’s discarded shorts. This was not an invasion, the cargo shorts were his after all, he had every right to them and their contents. He plucked the leather wallet out of the back pocket and went to the bathroom where he could have some light to inspect it. Jack had touched it when he was in the height of his drama the night before, it must contain something that would give Pellinore some clue to the man’s flawed reasoning. 

The clue, it it could be called that, was readily apparent. It was folded once and stuck securely into the big pocket. Pellinore fished it out and unfolded it, holding it in his long fingers. It was a photo, a polaroid. He remembered Jack taking it now, he had told him off when he’d found out. It had been last Christmas, Will and Anna had worked together to make an enormous meal. It had been her first ever Christmas there, she had said she had never had a proper Christmas. Jack had deemed it necessary, compounded by the previous skipped Christmas that Will had not been allowed to celebrate as Pellinore had been quite busy. 

So they had had a proper Christmas, with a feast and stockings over the fire and a tree that Jack had brought. Pellinore, of course, he been most interested in the feast, he had eaten himself near to sick and fallen asleep stretched out on the couch with his feet hanging over it. He had been shortly followed by Anna and Will who had both overindulged. Jack had snapped the picture of the three of them, Anna leaning against the couch and sitting up with Will nuzzled up next to her. For effect, Jack had added a Christmas bow to Pellinore’s stockinged foot before taking the picture. And here it was, stuck in his wallet. 

Pellinore sat back onto the toilet to look at the picture. What possible reason could Jack have for putting the photo there? It was hardly as though some occurrence might spring up with no forewarning that would require its presentation. If it had been put into a photo album, or even a box, it would be in better condition. As it was, the corners were bent, there was a crease down the center and Jack’s handwritten caption ‘Christmas 1999’ was fading. 

“Pellinore?” came a sleep addled voice, “What the devil are you looking at?” 

Pellinore jumped and looked up at Jack who stood in the bathroom doorway. 

Pellinore had the photo in one hand, Jack’s wallet in the other, and the crumpled short on the floor at his feet. There was not much of an alibi to be had. 

Jack’s hand shot out and snatched the photo from Pellinore’s hand, “What the hell, Pellinore?” He snapped, “Are you going through my things now?” 

Pellinore bristled and crossed his arms, “Well, it was in _my_ shorts, I had every right.” 

“You had every-?” Jack clenched his teeth and closed the door, shutting the two of them into the tight space. 

Pellinore stood, it being too awkward to look up at Jack from the toilet. They were forced to stand quite close. 

Jack continued, “Why did you find the need to look through my personal possessions, Warthrop?” 

“Are you saying you have secrets from me, Jack?” 

Jack bared his teeth in frustration, “You know very well that I do not, but that does not give you the authority to check through my belongings at your whim!” 

“I am only attempting to understand,” Pellinore said, tone low and accusatory, “You called them ‘our children,’ I only want to understand why you would think that they were in any way yours.” 

Jack looked as though he had been struck. “Pellinore-” for this single word his voice was shaken, then he hardened it, “Is this how you tell me that you regret our arrangement? Have you had enough of me?” 

Panic flickered through Pellinore’s blood, “No. No, John, that is not what I was communicating. I meant only that Anna has blood ties to me alone and Will to neither of us. Will is under my care to be sure, but he is not my child. And neither of them are yours.” 

Jack’s tone became rather dangerous, he took the single step forward the the space allowed and leaned toward Pellinore, nearly against his face, “Your problem, Pellinore, is that you regard everything as having the same strict bounds as your science.” 

“That is because it does.” 

“Anna might disagree with you.” 

“I don’t see why that is of consequence, she is a child, prone to be wrong about a great many things.” 

Jack crossed his arms and leaned back, “If it is science, then I suppose it would stand to the rigours of hypotheticals.” 

“...of course.” 

“Then let us imagine that Anna’s mother had lived, you remember her, who attempted to sell her to a gang member? Your theory would have her be in more authority for her care than I who pick her up from rugby practice and take her to the dentist?” 

Pellinore shrugged, “I do not know why that would qualify you as a caretaker, any seventeen year old nursemaid could do the same for a relatively low rate.” 

Pellinore very much so thought that Jack might hit him, but he forged ahead, “And that does not determine what claim you would have over Will Henry whose parents were quite competent while they lived.”

“But they didn’t live!” Jack hissed. 

“You are diverging from your own hypothetical, which negates-”

Jack cut him off, “You must be one of the stupidest men I have ever come into contact with!” 

Pellinore glowered, “As you well know, I am far more intelligent than-”

Jack threw up his hands, “To hell with you!” 

“You have neither legal nor biological claim to either of them.” 

“Well I have some claim to you.” 

“By virtue of what?” Pellinore asked. 

Jack shrugged violently, “Spoken contract, Pellinore, do you feel no claim to me?”

 

“There is no binding claim that we have to each other.” 

Jack glowered, “Then I would be doing nothing to wrong you if I took up with,” he cast about and settled on the human adult that was in closest proximity, “John Chanler?” 

Pellinore stiffened, his eyes slicing into Jack’s, “Is that something that you have considered?” Old hurt slunk through his voice. 

Jack, realizing his mistake, pinched his nose between his forefinger and thumb, “No, Pellinore. I was making a point. I should not have used him as an example. But you would be hurt, wouldn’t you?” 

Pellinore did not want to answer honestly. So he crossed his arms and looked away. 

Interpreting him correctly Jack said, “You see, we hold claim to each other, regardless of legal binding.” 

Pellinore still smarted from the earlier slight and muttered aggressively, “Perhaps you and John would be more fitting parents to the two of them.” 

Jack swore, “I am not actually interested in Chanler and I can tell you with some certainty that he is not interested in me.” Jack took Pellinore by the jaw and tilted his face back to him. He leaned forward again and pressed his lips to Pellinore’s. Unable to rebuff him, Pellinore responded, returning the kiss. 

In a much softer voice Jack said, “There are fouler lines among family than science would lead you to believe.”

“You are wrong,” Pellinore said and the lines of frustration, “If the two children belong to me in biological and legal terms and you belong to me by social contract, then it stands to reason that they belong to you as well, by virtue of the Transitive Property which states-”

Jack kissed him again. 

Pellinore drew back with a scowl, “I do not like it when you kiss me to cut off my speaking.” 

“Then you ought to try to bore me less.” But he was grinning, “Now may I have my photograph back? And my wallet?” 

Pellinore handed them over, “I had thought that perhaps John could choose our accommodations for this evening. I do not seem to be up to the task.” 

“Yes, Pell, that would be for the best.” 

“For the sake of,” he stumbled here awkwardly, “...for the sake of our children.”


	12. Family Road Trip: Part 5 - On the Road Again

**Family Road Trip: Part 5 - On the Road Again**

By the time the breakfast opened at seven, everybody else in the room had woken up and a general hubub ensued of everyone getting ready for the day. Anna was truly the gum in the works as, being the only girl, she was unwilling to either change in the main room or let other people brush their teeth while she was showering. Not that any of the others took any issue with that. 

Eventually, everyone was showered, dressed and had their things put back in their bags. Pellinore had already gone down to breakfast, taking the two youngsters with him but they waited on the other two adults who were, at the moment, fighting for use of the bathroom mirror so that they might style their hair. 

“Get out of here, Kearns,” John said, giving the slighter man a good shove, “I actually have to shave!” 

“What ever is that supposed to mean, Chanler?” Jack hissed back, refusing to be budged.

“It means that Will grows a better beard than you, hell, Anna probably grows a better beard than you.” 

“Don’t touch me with those hands, Chanler their covered in your disgusting hair gel, I don’t want to be forced to wear Pellinore’s shirt as well as his shorts.” 

“How are you liking those teenager’s cargo shorts?” 

Jack laughed and said rather conspiratorially, “Don’t tell Pellinore, but I find that the pockets are quite useful. I do not even need a bag to carry extra rounds, a flashlight, granola bars, and extra batteries.” 

“Extra batteries for what?” 

“Oh, the children’s little gameboys they never remember to pack their own and get fussy if their games die. Well Anna gets fussy, Will just stare plaintively out the window.” 

John said, “You got a pacifier in there somewhere?” 

“Of course not, you behemoth, both of the children are nearly teenagers.” 

“Oh, I meant for Pell!”

Finally the two men left the bathroom and returned their products to their respective bags, hoisting them over their shoulder. 

They dropped off their bags in the car and went back in to harvest something from the continental breakfast. What they found was not heartening. 

Pellinore was quite happily cramming his cheap food into his mouth, having his entire plate loaded up. Anna was dejectedly waiting for her frozen waffle to ding up from the industrial toaster. But it was little Will that really captured the moment, so much so that Jack fished his camera out of one of his many pockets and snapped a picture of the sorrowful breakfast. Will’s plate had a single old bagel and in his hand drooped the saddest strip of bacon Jack had ever seen. 

John took the situation in hand, “Alright, come on, sport, get Anna and load up, we’ll stop at iHop on the way out, my treat.” 

Will looked at John as though he were an angel from on high and scampered away to fetch Anna and return to the car. 

Pellinore glowered at John, “This breakfast was included in our rate, John, why would we not eat here?” 

“Because the only difference between this food and garbage is labelling it right, Pell, get your ass up and get in the car.” 

Pellinore appealed to Jack, “You cannot take issue with the food, it is perfectly acceptable.” 

Jack turned up his nose, “I would rather hunt and roast a racoon than break my fast on this refuse, Pellinore. Get up or we will leave you here.” 

Begrudgingly Pellinore got up and followed them out, Jack lingering momentarily at the desk to get them checked out. 

At iHop just down the road the children gorged themselves on pancakes, Pellinore finishing off what was intended to be a breakfast platter, Jack had an omelette and John a sausage on croissant sandwich. 

As promised, John paid, leaving a more than generous tip. And then they were off again, driving toward the Midwest. 

The seating arrangement had been changed somewhat. Pellinore and Jack were both, for some reason, quite sleepy, so they moved the cooler from the farthest back seat into the passengers and put the two of them back there to nap. Anna and Will were in the middle seats, set up with a movie to watch.

This took them a couple of hours out when John pulled off into a gas station to stretch his legs and send the kiddos off to the bathroom. 

Jack woke up when they stopped and finagled his way out of Pellinore’s grasp so he could leave the car, “I can drive for awhile, John, if you’d like a break.” 

“God, thanks, Jack, I was wondering when one of you two dipshits would start pulling your weight.” 

Jack ignored this and took the keys, “Do you want to move the cooler back?” 

“Nah,” John said, “It’d just wake up, Pell, let’s let him sleep, I can sit in the back, I’ve gotta work on my fantasy baseball lineup anyway.” So John climbed in back and the kids retook their seats, after being sent back into the gas station by Jack to get him snacks. 

They set off once more, Jack driving quite a bit faster than John had. Out like a light, Pellinore slept through it all, curled up with his forehead pressed against the side of the car. After about an hour Pellinore squirmed over and, obviously believing his backseat companion was still Jack, nuzzled against John, wrapping an arm around him and putting his head in John’s lap.

John took a few moments to keep himself from laughing too hard and waking Pell up, but let him stay, less out of kindness than out of the thought that it would be much funnier to watch him discover what he’d done on his own than wake him up and spoil it. Not to mention that Pell was very warm and there were no controls for the air all the way in the back, which Jack had on full. 

All John did was alert Anna to the situation, who, without pausing, snapped a picture of her father cuddled so adorably on his friend’s lap. Even Will looked a little amused. Pell even made a soft and contented noise when John patted his hair

Pellinore remained where he was, curled up nearly on top of John until Jack pulled off the highway in the early afternoon to stop for lunch. “Turn your movie off you little fiends, lunch time,” Jack said to the backseat. Far in the back, as everyone hoped, Pellinore blinked awake. He was facing outward, and he stared through the seats at Jack, who smirked from the driver’s seat. 

From above him John said, “Morning, Pell!” 

Pellinore jerked away from John, color burning over his face, “You aren’t Jack!” He said, still in the befuddlement of his nap.

Jack called from the front, “The two of you are so lovely together, you looked so comfortable.”

Pellinore pushed passed Will to get out of the car, “Come now, Will Henry, snap to and get out of the car.” 

“Oh, don’t take it out on Will!” John called, getting out after the kids and shutting the door, “I thought it was cute, reminded me of when we lived together and you worked yourself half to death.” 

“I do not know what you’re talking about,” Pellinore snapped and stalked inside to get a booth. 

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, although Pellinore refused to continue napping and instead pouted in the back of the car and harassed Will Henry for better snacks. 

They had one more night in a hotel before they would make it to their destination. Pellinore had made his reservations, but they had been overruled and John took them to someplace a little less horrific. 

The hotel being ‘less horrific,’ might have been a matter of opinion. Neither Jack nor Pellinore were overly fond of it, although Pellinore far less so. By the time they stopped they were deep in South Dakota’s Black Hills, a tourist trap if there ever was one. John had selected a hotel that was decked out entirely in a Wild West Theme. The main door was created by two rodeo cowboys made of plastic that were rearing their horses into a grand arch. 

“Why, John?” Pellinore asked, convinced that this was some sort of punishment.

John looked at him innocently, “It’s got the biggest indoor pool in the state, water slides and everything.” 

“Why would that ever compel you to take out rooms here?”

“Oh come one, Pell, look at the kids!” 

Indeed, Anna and Will both had their noses pressed up against the glass that separated the lobby from the pool. It was all Wild West themed with a giant spiraling water slide, diving boards, water games and swimming pools. 

They were dragged away to bring their stuff upstairs and antsy when the adults started talking about dinner. 

“We aren’t hungry!” Anna piped up.

Pellinore looked over at them, “Really? I find that hard to believe, how about you, Will Henry.” 

Will shuffled his feet and his stomach growled ravenously, “...no sir, we can go to the pool ourselves, we don’t have to bother you.” 

John laughed at them but turned to Pellinore, “Why don’t you and blondie go have some quality time and I’ll order pizza for us.” 

Jack interjected, “That sounds like a capitol idea, come now, Pellinore, let’s find something to keep ourselves entertained.” He snatched John’s proffered keys with a rakish grin at Pellinore. 

“Jack,” John warned, “Don’t...not in the car.” 

Jack looked affronted, “We would never! I am offended even that you thought of it!” But he gave Pellinore a sly wink. Pellinore did not seem to be keeping up. Jack seized Pellinore and led him out with another wink over his shoulder at John.

Helpless, John ordered the pizza, three of them, and followed the youngsters down to the pool to watch them wear themselves out racing around and splashing each other. When the food came he got them bundled up in towels and they watched Pay Per View movies on the hotel room floor devouring their pizzas.


	13. The John Chanler Episode

**The John Chanler Episode**

John stood in his bathroom shaving absent mindedly. This bathroom was smaller than the one he was used to, the one at home. After Muriel he had taken out a little apartment to stay in rather than the family estate. He could stand neither his father’s biting comments about how he had always known what sort of woman she was, nor the memories she had imprinted on the place. Her favorite place to read under the picture window, the closet where she used to keep all of clothes that still smelled of her perfume. 

How was he here? Nearly forty and living alone in a New York apartment, shaving before a first date. He was supposed to be married. He had always thought he would have kids by now, a whole rag tag bundle of them. He had told Muriel he wanted kids, but she never had. Guess he knew why now, but it didn’t help. He felt like he’d missed something important, even if this girl he was going out with tonight turned out to be the one, and he sort of doubted it, it would be five years at the very least before there might be any kids. He’d be in his forties. Wouldn’t that be too late? 

They’d come full circle, and it was only fair, he guessed. Pell had spent years brooding in jealousy over him, it was only right that he spent a little time being jealous of Pell. Pell who he’d always thought would die alone in his lab had a long term relationship and two kids to look after. God to think he was jealous of Jack goddamn Kearns for something other than that bike. 

He checked the time and cursed. He buttoned up his shirt and threw on a jacket. He was going to be late meeting her for lunch. He had found that he wasn’t great at dates, but god, why should he be. He had been a husband, he had been good at being a husband. At least, he had thought he had been. Not for the first time he questioned himself. Maybe there was a reason she had never gotten over Pellinore. Maybe he hadn’t been up to snuff. 

He had always taken her to plays she wanted to see, never made her come to games with him. He had let her wear his jacket when she got cold. He made her breakfast whenever he could. He had loved making her breakfast. He could make a mean french toast. He knew her favorite perfume and her foods. He bought her flowers. He brought her soup when she was sick and kissed her no matter how contagious she was. What was it that he had overlooked? 

He got into his car and pulled out into New York City, slowly making his way to the rendezvous. The woman’s name was Charlotte, she was a trainer at his gym. She was very pretty. Long dark hair that he was rather looking forward to seeing styled in some way different than the ponytail she wore to work. Nice smile. He liked a girl with a nice smile. 

Maybe he hadn’t loved her enough. Maybe that had been his cardinal sin that had driven Muriel away from him. But how could he have loved her more? Even after almost twenty years of being married to her he still loved how she said his name. He still felt a little punch drunk after she kissed him. She wouldn’t ever kiss him again. 

There was not a soul on the planet he could ever tell, Pell wouldn’t understand, but he missed being kissed, missed giving kisses. Not just the Red-Blooded-American kind. He’d always felt they were a language all their own. A language he had quite liked. It was the sort of thing that took time, time to wear down the take-me-to-bed fire that kissing brought on at first. Well sure, he missed that kind too, but it was mostly kisses before bed that he missed when both parties were wearing pajamas that were far from sexy. And kisses before he left, or before she left. And kisses because she passed too close and he could not resist. Kisses on small wounds. Kisses when they had only just woken and were still bleary. He missed these kisses, everyday sorts of kisses.

He was late to the restaurant, but only a little, and he had beaten her there, which was all that really mattered. He got his table and sat back to wait. His instinct was to order what she liked for her, at least her wine. But, of course, he had no idea what she liked. He fiddled with his phone, he was being unreasonably nervous. Without really thinking about his he texted ‘Pellisnore’ and sent it to Pell. Then he flipped the phone shut and put it on the table. He messed with the center display on the table. 

His phone buzzed and he snapped it open looking for a text from her, but it was Pellinore. He had texted back, ‘Why?’

He fidgeted and rethought his shirt choice, maybe this wasn’t dressy enough. What was she going to wear? He had always been able to pick out what Muriel was going to wear, he’d gotten really good at it by...by the end. Sometimes he chose a shirt in the same color as what he thought she’d put on, just to pester her a little. She’d always thought they looked silly when they matched, he’d always liked it.

He apologized to Pell, ‘sorry, waiting on a date.’ There was an unfair part of him that wanted Pell to just guess that he wasn’t doing great and invite him down to Harrington Lane. But it was Pellinore, so if he had wanted any comfort, he’d have to be pretty explicit. 

‘And here I am to entertain you? Is that it?’ he responded. 

He didn’t respond to that. He put his phone in his pocket. He took it back out. He was plagued with another absurd concern. Had he texted Muriel too often? Had he been annoying? The second he’d gotten ahold of phones that could do it he’d texted her all the time. Whenever he thought of her and was out of the house. He shoved his phone irately back into his pocket. It isn’t like that was what broke them up. He wondered if she had the same number. He had deleted it from his contacts but he still knew it. He couldn’t have more than two drinks for wanting to call her. God, just to hear her voice. 

He and Muriel had had date nights every Friday. Usually they stayed in, he liked staying in. He’d bring home a movie she’d tuck herself up under his arm. Nearly a thousand Fridays he’d spent on her. Had she spent the whole time wishing that he were Pellinore? As though Pell would take off every Friday to watch sappy chick flicks she’d picked out, not that he hadn’t liked them too. He stopped himself, he wasn’t going to start in on Pell, it wasn’t Pell’s fault. 

He had been pretty close to asking Pell if it would be weird to get an apartment in New Jerusalem. But he hadn’t, Pell had his own life and John didn’t want to impose. Pell had called him the other night, to catch up. He’d told John that he was having some trouble with Anna, not doing her homework or something, sneaking out to she her boyfriend Erik. Will had started talking back sometimes, whining when asked to do onerous chores. John had been struck with ridiculous jealousy for these petty parental irritations. He had had this whole life dreamed up and he hadn’t gotten any of it. He hadn’t thought he was asking for much, a wife and some kids, a place with a yard. 

He dropped a twenty on the table for the waitress who had been bringing him water and left, the trainer was obviously not coming. God, could he blame her? He was a sad, middle aged, divorce’. He went back out to his car. What he wouldn’t give to have someplace to go other than an empty bachelor pad that only had old pizza and beer in the fridge. 

He was halfway home when his phone rang, he pulled it out of his pocket and answered without looking at the caller ID. 

“Mr. Chanler?” 

“Hey, Will, you can call me John you know, what’s up?” 

“Well we, Anna and I, are on the train to New York, she won tickets to a baseball game, we have an extra one, we were wondering if you wanted to come.” 

“You don’t want to ask Lilly?” 

“So you don’t want to come?” 

John laughed, “Now I didn’t say that, you kids ought to have somebody to keep you in line, you want me to pick you up from the station? I can drive you over to the stadium. Hey, ask Anna if she wants to do something else, we don’t have to go to a game just because it’s free, I can stand to bankroll you for a night.” Muriel had hated baseball, he’d always assumed it just wasn’t something girls really liked. 

“Thank you, Mr- John. Lemme ask her.” 

He heard the muffled sounds of them conferring then, sharply, Anna’s unhappy voice through the earpiece, “I’m a goddamned New Yorker, I love goddamned baseball! What the hell Uncle John?”

John’s heart rather warmed at that and he said, “Alright, we’ll do baseball, no complaints here, you kids planning on heading back tonight? That’ll get pretty late, you can sleep over at my place if you want, we can get some pizza after the game.” 

He could hear them conferring again. Then Will said, “We would have to call the doctor, he only said we could go for today.”

“I’ll talk to Pell, see you soon, when do you get in?” 

“We’ll be at the station in thirty minutes.” 

“I’ll see you there, kiddos.” 

He turned around and cruised to the station so he could be there when they got in, as soon as he was parked he called Pell. 

“John,” Came Pell’s dry tone upon his answer, “I thought that you had a date.” 

“She never turned up, it’s alright, look, I just got off the phone with Will, he says him and Anna are here for a baseball game, asked me to come with.” 

“Hmm, I’d rather have you with them than that boyfriend of hers.” 

“Gee, Pell, thanks, anyway, I thought I’d get them something to eat after and send them home during the daylight tomorrow, how’s that sound?” 

Pell heaved a sigh, “I do make use of Will Henry, you know, he can’t just disappear on his whim.” 

“Oh, come on Pell, for my sake.” 

“Yes, alright, but do send them promptly tomorrow.” 

“Bye, Pellisnore.” 

Pellinore hung up. 

John slunk around the station until their train came in. “Will! Anna!” He called out to catch their attention. They darted over to him, Will consenting to having his hair ruffled, Anna to being hugged. “Nice to see you Will, Anna, you goddamned New Yorker.” 

She grinned, “Are we going or not?” 

He packed them up in the car and took them to the stadium, he bought them both Yankees caps and as many hot dogs as they could eat and clapped Will on the back when he caught a foul ball. He hadn’t had such a good Friday in months. 

When the game was over he took them back to the car, “Alright, Anna Banana, what’s the best pizza in New York?” 

“I like this place -”

He cut her off, “It’s gotta be somewhere that we can go in without my car getting stripped for parts.” 

She laughed, “I got nothing, it’s all you.” 

“Billy boy?”

Will shrugged, “I don’t know anywhere.” 

He called his favorite place and they swung through it on the way back to his apartment along with about ten different movies. They sat on either side of him on the couch and gorged themselves on pizza while they watched their movies. He wasn’t sure how they were possibly still hungry after all the food they had had at the stadium, but then, they were teenagers. 

By the third movie both of them were asleep. He carefully stood, extricating himself from their lanky limbs and found some blankets to drop over them. Anna opened a bleary eye when he covered her up and she sort of smiled, “Night, Uncle John.” 

“Night, kid.” 

Well, life was shit, but there were some alright parts.


	14. Trust Me

**Trust Me**

Erik Torrence kept glancing at Anna as he drove, one hand the the steering wheel and the other draped over the consol, fingers laced with hers. He grinned at her and revved the engine, gunning the car faster down the tarmac. Anna grinned back. 

“You still in, babe?” He laughed softly. His voice was deep and rough, Anna loved that voice. 

“Course,” she said, giving him her sideways grin.

He looked at her again with those honey colored eyes, “Did you cut your hair?” 

“No, why?” 

He shrugged, “I dunno, looks good, but you always do.” 

She kicked her feet up onto the dash, “You know, Jack’s going to figure us out, or dad.” 

Erik laughed, “How?” 

She shrugged, “I dunno, they always do. Might call John to see if I made it in alright, or John might just call to chat. Jack might just get the feeling I pulled one over them? I dunno, they do that sometimes.” 

“Sucks you have to sneak around,” he grinned at her, “Don’t they trust me at all?” 

She laughed, “Well, no, not really. But it’s mostly me, I’m a full fledged delinquent you know.” 

He laughed, “You keep tellin’ me that, said you were in Juvey or whatever, you gonna tell me what for? Can’t be that bad.” 

She looked reflexively out the window and away from him. Her worldviews were colliding. Her first thirteen years told her that no one could be trusted, that everybody in her life was transient, that telling someone her secrets meant disaster and betrayal. But the last four years had been something else entirely. Jack and Pellinore and Will were something else entirely. Her dad yelled at her when she flunked tests, gave her his full attention, a real dressing down. She watched him take on small wounds because he wanted her to succeed. Jack knew her favorite soup for when she got sick, and got upset if she was in trouble. They bought her new clothes for school, or just because she asked for them, or if they noticed she was growing out of her old ones. Her dad wanted to know her plans for her future, Jack wanted to know how her day had been. 

And there was Will, more like a brother than any of her foster brothers had ever been. He told her all his secrets and she told him all of hers. She spit at older boys who were mean to him and drove him and Malachi around wherever. She teased him about Lilly, he teased her about Erik. She let him stay in her bed with her when he couldn’t remember what his mother’s voice had sounded like, even though he had loved her. He let her stay in his loft with him when she missed her mother, even though she had not loved her. 

Everything they taught her was that she was that trust meant kinship. That she might not be something that was good to be used and spent. But thirteen years were longer than four. 

“I don’t want to talk about it, Erik,” she said. 

“Come on, can’t be that bad,” he said, “What’d you do, steal candy?” 

Her fingers shook under his and she withdrew them from his hold. 

_“Hey, brat,” her foster father, Pete Carroway, sneered at her, breath hot and rancid in her face, “I got somethin’ to make you useful.” She, like all foster kids, called him a Check Casher behind his back. But not to his face, to his face was Mr.Carroway. In her opinion just existing was being useful to him, he got three hundred bucks a month for letting her subsist beneath his roof. And she hardly ate, not that that was her choice._

_She didn’t say anything, she’d learned not to say anything, it might be the wrong thing, which would mean a club in the ribs. Not on her face where a social worker might see. But arms and legs and the bottoms of her feet were fair game. She just looked at him and tried to look obedient._

_“It’ll be easy, even a dumb little snot like you’ll be able to do it.” He drew out a bag of it, white powder. She knew what it was. She shivered. His breath stank, “All you gotta do is carry it from one place to another,” he said. He tucked the bag back into his pocket and drew out something else, a switchblade that glittered in the light of her nightlight, he pressed the business end of it into her ribs. It would bleed. “Jus’ one thing though, you tell anybody, or you get caught by a pig and narc, I’ll cut you good. You hear me, snot?”_

_She nodded and spoke a little, “I’m no narc.”_

“I don’t wanna talk about it, Erik,” she reiterated, “Let it go.” 

“Don’t you trust me, babe?” 

Yes. She trusted that he wouldn’t knife her in her sleep, that he wouldn’t crash his car on purpose, that he wouldn’t hold her at gunpoint. No. She didn’t trust he’d look at her the same after she told him about the blood on her hands. That he wouldn’t tell his dad, or one of his friends. How many mouths did it have to pass through before it got to the wrong one? Someone who thought she was better put down that walking around with all those names in her head. 

“Don’t be a dick,” She said. 

“Shit, don’t be like that, I’ll tell you anything about me.” 

She didn’t want to sound patronizing, that he didn’t have the sort of things to say that she did. 

_It started with opening her door at night, well hers and her other two foster sisters’ door. Then he started standing there, watching them sleep. The other two were younger than her at twelve, they were nine and seven. The boy in the doorway was big, nearly old enough to get out, seventeen. He saw that she was awake._

_“Shhhh,” he hissed, “Keep real quiet.”_

_She hadn’t let him get near her before she struck. She launched out her bed in her big sweatshirt and cotton pants and scratched at his face, she bit and kicked. He landed a blow on her ribs but she was in a frenzy. She didn’t stop till her fingers were bloody._

_He started screaming, fell back clutching his eyes._

“Alright, Anna.” 

The silence ate at the car for awhile and she said, “So you said you had something fun lined up, what is it?” The last time it had been her leading, she picked them up some ID’s that said they were eighteen and they went drag racing at this place that rented them out. 

“This buddy of mine got ahold of this stuff, he says it’s good shit.” 

She pulled her feet off the dash, “Fuck no, Erik.” 

“Come on, chicken shit.” 

“Take me back to my bike, I mean it.” 

“Jesus, babe, it’ll be fun, thought you said you were tough.” 

“Just stop the goddamn car, lemme out.” Her instincts were kicking up, the said, ‘ _get out. get out. get out._ ’ 

He glanced over at her, “S’not a big deal, Anna, it’ll be fun. I’ll take care of you.” 

Her voice turned fierce, “I’m not fucking around, Torrence, bring me back to my bike or I’ll call Jack to come and get me. You know he’s good for it.” 

“Shit, alright, alright, I’ll take you back. Didn’t peg you for such a baby.” 

_“Get that damn dress over your damn head, you little brat!” Her mother screeched at her. Her mother’s long fingernails scraped her when the pulled the pajamas off her little body. She was eleven, but too small for eleven. She tugged the dress over her little head by force. It wasn’t the sort of dress a mother bought for an eleven year old. It was the sort of dress a mother saw on her seventeen year old heading out the door and called her back with the warning that ‘no daughter of mine will leave the house looking like that.’_

_“It’s scratchy, Mom,” she said, “I don’t like it.”_

_Her mother smacked her across the mouth, “You think I give two shits?” Then she swooped down and kissed where she had hit, “Oh sweet pea, Leelee, baby, don’t make me hit you again, alright, you know I hate it. Just be a good girl for momma. Can you be a good girl?”_

_Anna nodded, “Sorry, mom.”_

_“Okay, you sit there and look pretty,” she brushed her hair into pigtails, high and little girlish. “Baby doll, I promise, you won’t barely feel a thing, just lay real still.”_

The forty five minutes it took to get her back to her bike were spent in absolute silence. She got out, pulling her backpack out with her from the back seat, “Later, Erik.” 

He leaned over the seat to call after her, “Hey, I’m not mad, I’ll call you tomorrow, alright? Anna? Babe!” 

“Sure,” she said, smiling, “Call tomorrow.” 

She revved her bike and veered off, heading straight for home. She’d have to explain why she wasn’t in New York with John but she didn’t care. She’d cut it close and risk her neck for a thrill, she’d ignore her father’s orders or borrow Jack’s bike to see what they’d do. But she had drawn up boundaries. She knew the foul bottom of the well that Erik had offered her. She didn’t really begrudge him, he was a kid. She’d call him tomorrow. 

An hour or so later she pulled into the driveway at Harrington Lane. If she cared more she’d have cut the engine at the end of the block and walked it up to the doors. But she didn’t care. Hell, she almost wanted to be greeted by her dad and Jack at the door. Not almost. 

She wasn’t disappointed. She shut the front door with no pretense of being quiet about it. Jack stopped halfway down the stairs, wearing just his sleeping pants and one of her dad’s old shirts. He quirked an eyebrow at her. 

She could also see her dad from here too, coming up at the sound of the door from his basement lab. His hair was its regular state of dishevelment, he desperately needed to shave. He saw her and frowned, that singular piercing unhappiness that could strip a person bare. He tilted up his chin and those backlit eyes glowered her down.

She decided then and there on the entire and unmitigated truth, she almost anticipated the lecture about keeping herself safe, she almost couldn’t wait for them to ground her. For Jack to snap her keys from her hands and her dad to set her to cleaning up his lab. “I didn’t go to New York with Uncle John, never meant to.” 

They both stared at her, waiting for her to go on, Jack wound his finger in a circle to draw the story out of her, she grinned, “I met up with Erik, he said he had something fun for us to do, told me to figure out how to spend the weekend with him.” 

Her dad’s demeanor darkened but Jack frowned, “Then why ever are you not off gallivanting with him? You might have gone all the way until Saturday before we figured you out. You must have known you’d gotten yourself a little time.” 

She shrugged out of her leather jacket and hung it on the peg, so she was just wearing her soft t-shirt and jeans, “He told me we were going to hang out with this friend of his who got his hands on, like he said, good shit.” 

Both of their eyes narrowed, Jack’s lip curled. 

“So I bailed, made him take me back to my bike, came home.” 

Jack stalked the rest of the way down the stairs, “You understand that you’re-

 

She cut him off, not able to keep herself from smiling, “Grounded yeah, for like ever probably,” she dangled her keys for him to confiscate. He did, snapping them out of her hand just like she had imagined. She could not help it, she put her arms around him and pulled herself against his chest. 

Taken aback, it took him a second, but he returned her show of affection and pressed a kiss on top of her head, “Not forever,” he said, “But for a week.” 

She looked up at him, “Two weeks.” 

He laughed softly, “This isn’t a negotiation.” 

“Fine,” she said in playful rebellion. 

She went into the kitchen and faced her father, “I know, I know,” she said, “Clean the kitchen, top to bottom, get on your hands and knees and scrub the floor.” 

He didn’t seem entirely aware of how to react, “Yes...aren’t you tired? it’s quite late.” 

“Nah, you want me to clean your lab stuff when you’re done? Like you showed me?” 

“...Yes. That will….teach you not to go behind our backs…” 

“Sure will,” she kicked off her boots and started piling up the dirty dishes, “Hey, dad?” she said as he turned to return to his basement.

“Yes?” 

“I got a math test on Monday, can you help me with some stuff tomorrow?” 

“I will be busy all day tomorrow, I am still finishing with a specimen that will not bear waiting,” he paused, looking at her with confusion, “I can help you Sunday after breakfast.” 

“Thanks.” 

He went down a few steps then came back up, “You will have to remind me on Sunday.” 

She smiled at him, big and warm, “Yeah, I know, I’ll remind you.” 

“My work is very important and requires all of my attention. Not remembering is not a reflection of my not-”

She didn’t make him say it outright, “I know, Dad.”


	15. Family Camping Trip: Part 5 - The First Night

**Family Camping Trip: Part 5 - The First Night**

It was the third day of driving that they finally made it to Yellowstone National Park. They had to slow down to slower than forty miles an hour when they got close to maneuver through the close turns of the mountains. 

“Welcome to Yellowstone!” Said the peppy young park worker from the kiosk at the entrance of the park, “We can get you a week pass just for Yellowstone or one for both Yellowstone and the Tetons for ten dollars more!” 

“Yellowstone and Tetons, ma’am!” John said, handing over some cash. 

She traded him the park passes and peered curiously into the car, “Dr. Kearns? Is that you?” 

Jack, slightly surprised, looked up from the map in his lap, and peered at the girl for a moment, then brightened, “Ah! Mellissa! Spending another summer here, are you?” 

“Sure am, Doctor, you after another bad guy? You know you made me fifty bucks last year by catching that guy so fast.” 

Jack smiled a self satisfied little smile, “I am glad to have done so well by you, but no, I am not working just now. Family trip.” 

She gasped and laughed with excitement, “You got a family, Doctor?” she looked at John appraisingly, “This the lucky guy?” 

John made a gagging noise and Jack hit him, “No, mine is the dark haired one scowling in the back caring for the small car sick boy.” 

She peered into the back and waved at Pellinore, who was indeed scowling and giving superficial care to little Will, again stricken with motion sickness. He did not wave back. 

“You got kids, too? You get cuter and cuter!” She put up her hand to mock whisper to Jack, “Your guy is pretty cute too, doc, almost as cute as you!” 

“He’s quite a looker, isn’t he, Mel,” Jack said, with a sideways look back at Pell, whose scowl deepened. 

“Hey, if you guys do that rafting thing down at the river tell Mark that I sent you, he’ll give you the good equipment,” Melissa said, trading her coy grin for a genuine smile. 

“Thank you, Melissa,” Jack said, “The park will suffer when you find something else to do with your summers.” 

She waved at them as John pulled away. 

John laughed when they were out of earshot, “Some kid remembers you after a year just seeing you in a car?” 

Jack shrugged, smug grin still in place, “I am quite memorable.” 

From the backseat Pellinore said, “What exactly is it that you did that made a spry young woman remember you so vividly?” 

Jack looked back at him, “I found a murdering Park Ranger hidden four days into the Yellowstone Forest during bear season, Pellinore.” He smirked, “And I won her fifty dollars. I believe there was a pool regarding my success in the summer intern dormitories.” 

Anna piped up from the back, “God, Jack, you’re so cool.” 

He grinned, “Yes, my girl, I really am.”

“And humble,” Pellinore muttered. 

John had to pull over he was laughing so hard, “Pell,” he gasped through his laughter, “No, Pell, you don’t get to get after people for being conceited. Do you hear half the stuff you say?” 

“Please just deliver us to the campsite, John, that Will Henry might have some relief from his ailment.” 

On cue, Will made a pathetic little noise. Sympathetically, John got ahold of himself and pulled back out onto the road. 

It took about thirty minutes of driving before they got to their campsite, it was almost dark by the time they got checked in, bought some wood and found their spot. John jumped out of the car and had the back door open before any of the rest of them were out of the car. 

“Come on, Pell!” he said, “Let’s get this tent up, snap to!” 

Pellinore got out, scowling, helping Will out of the car, “Sit down again, Will, like before, head between your knees. Jack, don’t get too close to him this time.” 

Anna leapt out after them, she nearly bowled over John trying to help him get the tents, “How do we put up the tents, Uncle John? Can I help?” 

Jack pulled her back so John could get the tents out, he patted her hair, “Find you sweatshirt before it gets too dark, Anna, it will get cold after dark.” 

She beamed up at him, “Yeah, you’d know because you hunted down a murderer here. God you’re a badass.” 

He grinned at her, “Find Will’s too, he’s a bit incapacitated.” 

“Sure,” She said and set to digging through their bags to find hers and Will’s. 

John and Pellinore started taking out the tents, there were two of them, a small one that Pellinore and Jack would use and a larger one for John and the kids. 

Jack and John had the tents up in no time. John stepped down the last stake and said over to Will, “You doin’ any better, Billy boy?” 

Will looked a little less sorry by then and looked up with a sad little smile, “Yeah, I’m feeling better.” 

“Great, you want to help, Anna work on a fire?” 

Pellinore looked over at the two of them sharply, “Perhaps I will oversee.” 

With Pellinore’s oversight, Will’s concerted effort, and a stern tamping down of Anna’s ideas of how to build the proper bonfires, they got a steady fire going. By that time it had gotten quite cold and both kids were wrapped up in sweatshirts and had changed into jeans. 

“Oh, hey, Jack,” Anna said, “I forgot, but there was a washing machine in the hall at that hotel and I cleaned your pants, you don’t have to wear Dad’s shorts.” 

Jack leapt up with a broad grin, “You wonderful girl!” He scampered to the car and came back in his pants and boots, now Will vomit free. He also bore sticks, marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers, “S’mores children?” 

John said, “Me too, Kearns.” 

Jack gave him a condescending smile, “Oh, I was including you, Chanler.” 

Pellinore sighed, “I don’t suppose anyone else would consider making dinner first before eating melted marshmallows off of sticks.” 

Anna leaned back against his legs, the adults had lawn chairs but the children were left on the ground, “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Dad, we’ll make s’mores then dinner then have more s’mores.” 

“Will Henry will be sick.” 

Anna shrugged, “Just aim him at Jack!” 

Will glowered at her, “I’m not going to be sick again!” 

Jack distributed marshmallows impaled on sticks and retook his seat. Pellinore very carefully found a warm spot on the fire and began a steady spinning of his marshmallow. Jack shoved his directly into the flames. John didn’t bother cooking his, he just started eating marshmallows out of the bag. 

Jack waited until his marshmallow was so gooey it was nearly dripping off of the stick and flicked his wrist with a impish little grin, sending his marshmallow arching over the fire and directly into Pellinore’s hair. 

“Kearns!” Pellinore shouted, pulling the majority of the marshmallow from his hair and threw it viciously on the ground. Anna and John exploded in laughter, Will stuffed his fist into his mouth to keep himself quiet. 

Pellinore’s face was contorted in anger, “Must you always be this way, Kearns?” 

Jack got up and walked around the fire, “Oh, Pellinore,” He purred, “Don’t be so upset, I can get the marshmallow out.” He sat down on the arm of Pellinore’s lawnchair and draped his arm around Pellinore’s back. Pellinore let him scour the marshmallow from his hair, even when it devolved into just running his fingers through the curly locks, scratching his scalp gently. 

John made eye contact with Will and dramatically rolled his eyes. 

Will pulled his marshmallow out of the fire and tried to ready graham cracker and chocolate with one hand. 

“Here,” Anna said, handing him her own stick and getting both of their grahams ready, then scooping off their marshmallows. Will put down the sticks and took his goopy treat from Anna, both of them devouring their s’mores as only children could, before hurriedly making more. 

After they had made three of them Pellinore finally looked up from nuzzling his head languidly into Jack’s fingers and said, “You two will be sick if you eat any more of these,” he distracted himself, “Where has mine got to?” 

“Here, sir,” Will said, who had rescued the doctor’s forgotten marshmallow from a fiery grave and put it on a cracker for him. 

He took it without thanks and devoured it. 

John got up, “Real dinner, I think, hot dogs for tonight? They’re easy.” 

There was a general consensus and he dug out the fixings for hot dogs, distributing them around, one for each of the children, two for each him and Jack, four for Pellinore. 

When they were finished with their meal, none of them wanting more s’mores afterward, they cleaned up their food stuff and put it back in the car. 

Jack looked at the two kids, “Remember to put anything that’s had food on it in the car overnight, or bears will come and chew the meat from your bones!” 

Pellinore spoke quickly over him before he could become more graphic, “Anna, go and change into your pajamas, the warm ones, Will brush your teeth, you are no good to anyone full of cavities.” 

“Yes, sir,” he said, and gathered his bathroom kit from the car and went started the trek over to the camp bathrooms to clean up after supper. 

Soon all of them were tucked snuggly into their sleeping bags. Jack was rather proud of his purchase of two of the same brand sleeping bags for he and Pellinore as they could be zipped together to form one large sleeping bag. Thus he was not inhibited by need of warmth from tugging at Pellinore until his lanky limbs were wrapped around him and he was nestled in a warm little cocoon. 

“Pell,” he murmured, tipping back his head and rubbing his nose under Pellinore’s chin, “You know the danger in this, yes?” 

“Hmm?” Pellinore replied, exposing more of his neck for Jack as he pressed his lips against the underside of his chin and down his neck. Half consciously, Pellinore tightened his grip around him. 

“I am going to become all too accustomed to this level of comfort while I’m camping, I’ll have to cart you around with me wherever I go.” He flipped over so he was facing Pellinore and wormed his way closer, wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist, his lips feather light over Pellinore’s exposed collarbone and throat. 

“And what would I do?” Pellinore asked softly, for once, humoring him, “Sit in your tent all day keeping it warm?”

“I would buy you a portable microscope, don’t worry your little head.” 

Pellinore nuzzled his face into Jack’s hair, “Aren’t you thoughtful.” 

“Goodnight, Pell.” 

“Goodnight, Jack.”


	16. Outpatient

**Outpatient**

Pellinore Warthrop shot out a hand with his index finger extended wildly toward Will Henry, “Will, William, Will Henry. I need you. Find me the scones. The crumbly ones with the raspberries, William James, snap it.” 

Will stayed out of his reach and said, “Sir? You can’t eat yet, remember? You have to wait an hour after your pain medicine. Remember?” 

“James, I am the emperor of this house!” 

“Sir...sir, I can’t...you’re not supposed to have them yet,” Will said desperately, “that’s what the instructions from your surgeon said.” 

Warthrop wrenched himself forward into a sitting position, swayed, clutched his head and fell back to the couch, “James, James, come here. How did you get so tiny? James, you should grow taller.” 

“I’m - I’m not James, sir… It’s me...Will Henry.” 

“Oh, oh, yes, William, there you are, tea Will Henry, tea, Darjeeling, snap Will.” 

“I can make you herbal tea, sir, you can’t have caffeine either.”

“Will He-” he started, then he put a hand over his mouth, he shut his mouth for a moment, “Will Henry, please turn off the room spinninger.” 

“What..sir?” 

“Will Henry. Will Henry. Will Henry, sit here, sit by me.” 

Will cautiously scooted forward, “Yes, sir?” 

He threw an arm over his eyes, “I miss Jack. Get him. Can I have that at least?” 

“Yes,” Will said hurriedly, “Yes, I can get that-him.” 

He scampered away to the phone and dialed Jack’s cell number, he listened to the ringing while Warthrop cried out from the living room, “And scones, Will Henry. The one with the most crumbles.” 

“Yes?” Jack answered.

“Dr. Kearns?” 

“Oh for god’s sake, Will, Jack will suffice. How is Pellinore faring?” 

“He’s… he’s asking for you.” 

“Is he so desperate that I ought to put down the shopping and come home?” 

“I don’t think he can really get up yet…” 

Pellinore chose that moment to shout, “I require my scalpel, Will Henry, I have to skin this anaconda well enough to impress the pretty blond hunter.” 

On the other end of the phone Jack was unable to communicate through his laughter, “Oh, I shall come home right away, Willy, I do not believe I will have ever gotten home faster than I shall now.” 

He hung up. Will returned the phone and went back into the library. 

“My scalpel, Will Henry, this is of utmost importance!” 

“Why is it so important, sir?” 

He twisted his head around and grimaced but then said, “Did you see him wrestle in the river? I would like to touch his chest with my fingers.” 

Will went very red, “Sir? Can I leave?” 

“No, Will Henry no, sit right here next to me, James, come here, you tiny assistant, I need you to tell me something.” 

“Yes, sir?” 

He breathed hard on Will’s face, “What does my breath smell like, James?”

Will choked, “Vomit, sir.” He scooted away, “And I am Will Henry.” 

“Yes, of course, you are, Will Henry, where is the phone? Bring it to me.” 

“Who are you going to call, sir?” 

He curled over and pushed his face into the couch, “I need to talk to John, he’ll know what to do. No. Bring me two phones. John with one. Sir Hiram with the other, I have to remind him he’s an idiot.”

“I’ll get John on the line, sir.” 

Sure that this would both have no serious negative repercussions and very amusing, Will fetched the cordless phone and dialed John Chanler’s number, “Here, sir.” 

He took the phone and held it upside down on his face, Will righted it. 

Will darted off, he was not prone to spying but this was not something to miss. He picked up the kitchen phone and covered the mouthpiece with his hand, listening to John and Warthrop.

“Johnny. John. Your hair is stupid.” 

“Are you having a stroke, Pellinore?” 

“No. No. I need. You. You’re too good and I need you.” 

“What? Should I call 911?” 

Will scrambled for Warthrop’s cell phone and texted John, ‘This is Will Henry. The doctor had surgery. He is on pain medicine.’ 

“John, listen to me. Listen, please tell me everything you know.” 

“Why are you texting me, Pell? Oh.” John restrained laughter on the other side of the phone, “Alright, Pell, tell me what you need my help with.” 

“There was a boy in the forest and I need him.” 

“Is he a pretty boy, Pell?” 

“Yes. John. He’s a snake wrestler and no one will bring me any scones.” 

John could barely breathe, “And you need me to tell you what? How to charm him?” 

“Yes. His name is Jack John and he has a gun he put it in my face.”

John whistled, “Sounds like you got it handled, Smelly Pelly.” 

Jack came through the door, haphazardly dropping the groceries on the table and rushing into the living room, “Hello, Pellinore!” 

Pellinore clutched the phone to his face, “He is here, John, I want to touch his hair.” 

“You should put the phone down. And probably hang up and send Will Henry to Malachi’s.” 

Pellinore hung up the phone, “Will James, go off! The blonde hunter has come for me.” 

Jack tilted up an eyebrow, “Oh, yes I have.” 

Pellinore wiggled on the couch, his feet were sticking off the edge, “I want to touch your hair.” 

“Would you like me to come over there?”

Pellinore nodded, “Bring scones.” 

“You can’t have scones, but I will come over.” 

Pelliner scowled, “You are half as cute as you just were.” 

“Do you still want me to let you touch my hair?” 

Pellinore pouted, “Yes.” 

“Can I leave now, sir?” Will piped up. 

Jack answered for him, “Yes, Will, go on.” 

Will fled upstairs into his loft. 

Jack sat down next to the couch and Pellinore immediately struck out his hand and dug it into Jack’s hair. He pulled out the ribbon and laced his fingers through it. “Can I smell it?” 

“Yes, Pellinore.” 

Pellinore leaned forward and nuzzled his face into Jack’s hair, “It smells like my pillow.” 

Jack smiled languidly, “That sounds, right. Would you rather lay in bed, Pellinore? You barely fit on this couch.”

“Do you know where I live?” 

“I can probably find it,” Jack said and scooped him up with a slight ‘oomph.’ He carried him upstairs and laid him on their bed. Will had left on Pellinore’s shoes, so Jack untied them and pulled them off his feet, then his socks, “There, that’s better, isn’t it.” 

Pellinore curled up and Jack reclined next to him against the headboard, pulling his fingers through Pellinore’s dark hair. 

Pellinore made unreserved noises of contentment at the contact, into the pillow he murmured, “I live with a man named Jack. Did you know? Did I tell you?” 

“Yes, I’ve been made aware.” 

A broad and unWarthropian smile split Pellinore’s face, “He makes. He makes me want to…” 

Jack smirked and egged him on, “Yes?” 

“Makes me want to make him pancakes. Really good ones. So he stays.” 

“You ought to sleep, Pellinore.” 

“Mmm, alright. Tell the pretty hunter if he comes that I am very impressive.” And with that, he fell into unconsciousness


	17. Age of Majority

**Age of Majority**

“You certainly left early,” Jack said as Anna came through the door a little past noon, “Is it not your habit to sleep late on birthdays?” 

“I had something to do,” she said, hanging up her jacket

“What do you have to do?” Will asked. 

“None of your damn business, shit for brains,” she laughed.

“Shut up, dumbass!” He laughed back, throwing a spoon at her. At sixteen, nearly seventeen, Will was quite a bit rougher around the edges than he had been at twelve. 

Anna ducked the spoon and it zipped passed her and struck Pellinore Warthrop on the forehead who was coming into the kitchen after her. “Will Henry, why the devil are you throwing spoons? Have I spent the last six years raising an ape who has managed to master dressing himself?” 

“Sorry, doctor,” he said, sounding less than sorry. 

The doctor turned to Anna, “Congratulations on reaching the age of majority.” 

Jack dug out a ziplock of cold pizza and put two slices in the microwave for his lunch, “At your request, there will be no festivities, just a family movie night and cake.” 

“Lots of cake, though, right?” She asked. 

For some reason Warthrop glowered at Will, “So we have been told, although for a purpose only conceived by him, Will Henry has managed the procuring of your cake and hidden it from even us.” 

Will rolled his eyes, “From you, specifically, Warthrop. Don’t you remember last year?” 

He threw up his hands, “Does a single missing piece before official festivities destroy the flavor of the others? Or did you perhaps intend to eat each and every piece like a glutton?"

While he raved Anna raised a questioning eyebrow at Will, who gave her the tiniest of reassuring nods. It went unnoticed by Warthrop, who was not furiously dishing himself leftovers in the vestiges of his rant. But Kearns noticed, as he always did, a small crease appearing between his eyebrows. 

“Hand over the cereal, Henry,” Anna said, pulling up a chair and sitting next to him. 

“The Cinnamon Toast Crunch is mine,” he said, pushing it away from her in a very brotherly fashion. 

“The only other kind is that weird bran shit of dad’s,” she pleaded. 

“Anna, language,” Warthrop chastised. 

Will took pity and let her have a bowl of the good cereal. They had decided on leftovers for lunch but there was not enough for all four of them, leaving the teenagers with cereal, not that they were really complaining. 

Jack leaned against the counter, eating his heated up pizza, “So, Anna, what is the plan for the night? Presents, movie, cake? Cake, presents, movie?”

“Presents then movie then cake,” She said with the authority of it being her birthday. 

“What time are we doing all of this?” Warthrop asked. 

“Seven,” Kearns answered. 

Warthrop grumbled, “Let us go and get something done today then, Will Henry, come to the basement, snap to!” 

Will tipped back the dregs of his cereal and clattered the bowl into the sink, “Coming, sir.” 

Left alone Kearns spoke to Anna while he put his dishes into the dishwasher with Will’s bowl, “So, are you ready for tomorrow? You’ve packed all the things I told you to?” 

“Yeah, and I got the oil changed on my new bike and everything.” 

“Thank god that skeleton monstrosity did not survive the year.” 

“Sold pretty well though.” 

“Yes, because sixteen year old boys are idiots.” 

“Yeah, that’s true. I like the black.” 

“We leave early, it will be a big day of driving.” 

“I know, thanks for letting me come.” 

“You will still be going to college in the fall?”

“Yeah, yeah.” 

Kearns left her to her cereal, which she finished up and left the kitchen to check her bags. The family reconvened at seven, more or less, closer to eight when Warthrop had finally gotten cleaned up enough to be anything short of disgusting. 

Will sat down on the couch next to her and offered up a package, “Happy Birthday, dumbass.” He said ‘dumbass,’ like an endearment.

“Is this gonna be some sappy shit, Will?” 

He crossed his arms, “You’re off tomorrow with Dr. Kearns to wherever and will hardly be back before you disappear to school and I’m not allowed to be a little sappy?” 

“Oh, just open it,” Warthrop said, “Will you go through such nonsense for each of your gifts? For if you will we will not get to anything else before dawn.” 

“There are only three, Pell, it can hardly take more than that many hours, not nearly until dawn.” 

Will frowned, “Aren’t there four? I thought Torrence brought one by.” 

“The fuck would he bring one for?” Anna asked fiercely, it had been three months since their bitter break up. She was not reprimanded for her language here.

Jack said, somewhat haughtily, “Oh, he did try, he came and attempted to give it to me and everything. Your father was at the door with me.”

Will grinned, “What’d you say?” 

Jack smirked, “Not a damn thing. I have never seen a young man scurry with such haste.” 

Anna laughed a bit too loudly and tore the wrappings from Will’s gift. She reached out and took it in her fingers, turning it over and over. Her resentment at the story about Torrence disappearing in favor of misty eyes, “God, Will, you’re such a sap.” 

“You’re the one crying.” 

“I’m not crying,” she said a little thickly. Wrapped up in brown paper was a slender silver bracelet, a simple thing. One slim metal plate on two short chains. Engraved on the plate were three initials, ‘H. W. K.’ 

“You like it?” He asked unnecessarily. 

“No, its so stupid,” she was nearly in tears, “You’re the dumbest.” 

He took it from her and clipped it on her wrist, “Now you have to claim us wherever you go, dumbass.” 

Kearns, who was smiling piped in, “Pell, I believe it is your turn, I’m sure whatever you’ve gotten her will cure her of her emotion.” 

Without comment Pellinore handed over a heavy package. She carefully unwrapped it couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks for the microscope, dad.” 

“You will need it for your future studies.” 

“I’m not going into biology.” 

“When I was your age I thought I would be a poet.” 

“Oh shit, what?” She gasped. 

“Your foolish ideas for your future are as incorrect and ill conceived as everything else you think at this silly young age. You do remember how to use that, do you not?” 

She gave him a little smile, “Yeah, yeah, I remember.”

“Kearns, give her yours, lets be done with this.” 

Kearns tossed her a small package, she tore it open and looked at him, “Are these socks?” 

“Yes, wool ones, they are quite warm.” 

“....alright.” 

He scoffed, “I am taking you with me bounty hunting for an entire summer and you think you deserve another gift?”

She laughed, “Nah, the socks are good, warm right?” 

“Yes, quite.” 

Will got up, “I’m overruling you, Anna, cake first, you’re going to fall asleep during the movie.” 

“Says who?” 

He laughed, “You always do, dumbass.” 

Kearns noted that she shifted a little nervously.

“Yeah sure, bring out the cake,” she said. 

Will was away from a while and came back with a cake in a box. 

“Alright, so, before we open in, I have an announcement,” Anna said shiftily. 

“Is there even the smallest thing that we can do that does not require soliloquy?” Warthrop asked. 

“Shut up, dad. Ok. So...as you guys know, I turned eighteen today. You also know that my middle name is goddamn ‘Muriel,’ which is obviously a nightmare.” 

Kearns made the jump first, “Did you change your name, sweetheart? To what?” 

She blushed furiously, “I told Will, just open the damn cake.” 

Will, obligingly, opened the box to reveal a large cake with chocolate frosting. Atop it, in baby blue piping read, ‘Happy 18th, Annalee Kearns-Warthrop.’


	18. Transfixed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After my most recent chapter of Assistant Apprentice, these two needed at least something.

**Transfixed**

“You, it is you!”

Anna was wrenched around by the shoulder to face a dark eyed woman whose short nails bit into her skin.

Anna pulled her shoulder out of the woman’s grip and said, “Who the hell- oh.” The breath slipped out of Anna’s lungs.

“You listened to me!” the woman exclaimed, her lips turning up into a smile. Her English was heavily accented. Anna wasn’t surprised, she’d met her the first time in Krakow. “About those men. You listened and you got away!” 

Anna tucked her wild dark hair behind her ear, “Oh,” she laughed, “Not really, I knew who they were.” 

The woman struck her, a hard slap across the face. Anna swore and stepped back, bringing her hand up to her smarting cheek, “Jesus!” 

The woman began a fierce tirade, not minding that they were on a London street, the more angry she became the worse her English fared “You know! You know! The kind man they is and you go still? Foolish, stupid, girl! What matter with you, yeah? Or you trick, getting more girl with you?” 

“No, shit, calm down, I’m a bounty hunter, I was hunting them down.” 

The woman backed off, “Oh,” she straightened herself and set her shoulders regally, “You should have said something.” 

Anna laughed, “I had a cover to keep at the time, thanks for the warning you gave me though, very noble.” 

It had been almost two years ago, Anna, at twenty three, had come into her own hunting down international bounties. Aided by a good bit of training from her adoptive father and hard won desire to kick the shit out of criminals. She’d tracked a sex trafficking ring from D.C. to Krakow, Poland. It was the usual trick, promising starving young girls jobs and visas. The woman, Anna had not learned her name, had seen her while she was getting in, being led by two of the lieutenants of the ring wearing a little red dress. She’d told her to get away, that there wasn’t anything they were promising stateside. Anna had looked for her afterward but she’d been gone like smoke. There had been something about the woman. Something Anna had not been able to shake. Those eyes.

“What are you doing in London?” Anna asked. 

The woman drew herself back and threw a long fingered hand on her chest, “I cannot travel? What are you doing in London, bounty hunter?” Her hair was thick and dark and spilled over her shoulders. 

“My name’s Kearns-Warthrop. You can call me Anna, if you like.” 

“Anna,” she repeated, “I am glad to formally meet you. Casimir Szczpanik.” 

Anna blushed, “Can you say that again?” 

Obligingly she did, “Casimir Szczpanik”

“One more time.” 

“Is it that you have not deciphered it or that you just want to hear me say it?” 

“Can’t it be both?” 

She offered up a full lipped smile, “Call me Cas, if you like, I am an artist, bounty hunter.” 

“I always assumed you were, you know...” 

“A whore,” she filled in, “But we are called escorts you know, in society. And I was, then I come here to paint.” 

“I’m glad I ran into you, Cas.” God was that an understatement.

She winked, “Of course you are, I know how I look in this dress.” 

It was a beautiful dress, black and low and ruffled it clung to her sides and made her skin in comparison look like it was crafted of ivory. 

Momentarily distracted Anna tried to say two things at once, “I’m sure you’d look going someplace.” 

Cas’ dark eyes sparkled with merriment, “English is not even my first language and I speak it better than you, I think.” 

Anna ran a hand through her hair, “Shit. I meant- um, are you going somewhere special or do you always dress like that?” It made Anna a little self conscious of her jeans and t-shirt. It wasn’t even a woman’s t-shirt, just a size small man’s with the sleeves cuffed up. 

“I have an art show, and I should be going to it.” 

“Oh, fuck, congratulations,” Anna took an awkward step away, “Yeah, I’ll let you go, but it was nice to meet you, you know, officially.” 

“Come here,” Cas said and Anna obeyed without question, stepping forward. 

Cas too her hand turned it so Anna’s forearm face up, then she slipped her other hand into her bag and drew out a Sharpie. She wrote a number on Anna’s arm, “Here, you can call me.”

Anna nodded a little dazedly. 

“Or,” Cas said, still standing quite close, “You can come to my art show, it is at the Whitechapel Gallery. It is quite an accomplishment, you know.” She batted her eyelashes slowly at Anna, pouting her lips, “I deserve someone to take me out afterward, I think.” 

Anna gave a starstruck version of her sideways grin and said, “Yeah, sure. I should probably,” she was having trouble finding even basic words, “I should change though, yeah?” 

“Why?” She asked, eyes fluttering over Anna’s faded and soft Slant 6 t-shirt and jeans tucked into boots, “I like how you look in this.” She tugged on the hem of Anna’s t-shirt, lingered for a long second then stepped away, giving her another wink, “I will see you there, bounty hunter.” And she walked away, leaving Anna somewhat stunned on a London street corner. 

Regardless of Cas’ insistence Anna did try to clean up a little. She traveled by motorcycle so she didn’t have much by way of clothes and honestly had no idea what to wear to an art show. As she rifled through her shirts, looking for one that was a little less battered she balanced her phone on her shoulder and called home. 

“Anna!” came Jack’s enthusiastic greeting when he picked up. 

Anna grinned, it was Jack she had been hoping for, she didn’t know if this was a topic her father would have given her an answer for. “Hey, Jack, I don’t have a lot of time, but I have- um- a question for you. You don’t have to answer it.” 

“Three months with hardly a call and you don’t have a lot of time?” 

“I’ll call again tomorrow and talk as long as you like, alright?” 

“Oh, fine, what is it, sweetling?” 

“Um- When you met dad… what did it… I mean… How’d you feel? Like...did you know?” 

She could nearly hear him smirking over the phone, “Have you met someone?” 

“Shut up, can you just answer my question?” 

Sharply a third voice joined the conversation, cutting in with Pellinore’s harsh dictating tone, “Annalee Kearns-Warthrop you ought not be associating with people from overseas.” 

“Shit,” she said in surprise, “Hi, Dad. Didn’t you meet Jack in the Amazon?” 

“Where are you now? Which country?” 

“I’m in London, Jesus, I have to go soon, I just wanted-”

“You ought to contain your search for significant companionship to men in the United States.” 

“Your husband is British, Dad, shut up. And-”

“Oh hush, Pellinore,” Jack chastised, “Ignore his bluster, Anna, he is only worried we will lose you to Europe forever.” 

“Ok, but I had a question. Shit, can I wear a t-shirt to an art showing?” 

In unison, Jack answered, “No,” while Pellinore answered, “Yes.” 

“So no?” she surmised, “Ok, but Jack, come on, I’ve gotta get to her art show.” 

“Her?” asked Pellinore sharply, “I was not aware your interests were so diverse.” 

But Jack hooted, “Oh good for you, little Warthrop! Is she pretty?” 

“What is her name? What does she study?”

“She’s an artist, Dad, that’s why she has an art show, and her name is Casimir, and yeah, Jack, she’s to fucking die for. But for god’s sake, can you just answer my question?” 

Jack bit, “You are going to an art show of a woman who is, ‘to die for,’ and you’re going to wear a t-shirt. Have I had no effect on you? Are you Pellinore’s through and through?” 

Laced with not a little bitterness Pellinore said, “If she were mine through and through she would not be chasing bounties in the U.K. but laboring in graduate school. Your effect on her is apparent every time she misses a holiday, John.” 

“Her galavanting in Europe is _my_ fault now? Who do you suppose she took it from to neglect to call for weeks on end? You do remember to eat, do you not Anna?”

“Yeah, I manage to keep myself alive.” 

“You ought to find yourself someone to keep you company,” Pellinore added. 

“Ok, great, how about a hot artist?” 

Pellinore snorted, “I meant a subservient.” 

“Sure, Dad, I’ll start sorting through orphans for an indispensable assistant.” 

“Well it worked out very well for me, I do not understand your mockery.” 

“Would you shut up, I had a question!” 

“Alright, Anna,” Jack said sternly, “Dark jeans, boots, a black t-shirt and your jacket, leave your hair down, you will look very vogue, wear a bit of eyeshadow.” 

“How did you meet this artist?” Pellinore asked. 

“I ran into her before in Poland, while I was working a case, she helped me out. Just bumped into her on the street though, here.” 

“Did you point a gun at her?” Jack asked nostalgically. 

“No! The hell would I point a gun at her for?” 

Jack scoffed, “Have I taught you nothing of romance?” 

“Did you point a gun at Dad when you met him?” 

“Yes,” Jack said tenderly, “And he stared straight down the barrel at it, I could have leapt upon him right there in the forest.” 

Anna swore. 

Pellinore made a small noise from his receiver, “You have never told me this.” 

Jack’s voice became a smoky purr, “Have I not, Pellinore? You with those dark eyes and those riotous curls just glowering down my revolver? And atop that, that vitality in your voice while you spoke to me in the dark, telling me of your passions? When you let your hand stray to my thigh I nearly took you there.” 

Anna sighed quietly, this was sort of an answer to her question, with a little more information than she really wanted. But she had called Jack Kearns, so what did she really expect. 

“And Pellinore? Whenever did you first think of doing unspeakable things to my person?” 

Pellinore answered stiffly, Anna was sure he had forgotten she was on the phone, “I was...not unaffected by your capture of the anaconda.” 

Anna spoke up, “So wrestle snakes and hold her at gunpoint? Got it.” 

“Do not go yet, Anna,” her father commanded, “It is already November, I have purchased you an airplane ticket to return home for Christmas and I expect you to make use of it. If you do not I will demand to be reimbursed, you know that airfare between Europe and America is not a petty expense.” 

“Yeah, Dad, course I’ll come home for Christmas, but you didn’t have to-”

“You say ‘of course’ as though it is beyond comprehension that you do not, but you did not return last Christmas or the one before that. I have not seen you in more than two years. I require you to return.” 

“Is Will going to be there?” 

Icily, “Will always returns for Christmas.” 

“Well… my work is very important.” 

This made Jack laugh, “You see, Pellinore, she may have followed me into my profession, but she is clearly of your design.” 

“I have to go to this art thing, I’ll call soon. Love you, Dad, Motorcycle Dad.” 

Pellinore snarked, “A statement with no evidence is merely conjecture.”

“Jesus, Dad, I’m coming home for Christmas.” 

“We love you, Anna,” Jack said for both of them, “Talk soon. Call us and tell us about your date. Buy her something nice.” 

Anna hung up. She wore what Jack had suggested, trying to go for roguish and vogue if she couldn’t go for elegant. The effect was good with her sharp features and brooding eyes. She let her hair down so it hung in a longer version of her father’s wild curls. 

She checked the time, swore, and pelted downstairs from her little flat, kicked her motorcycle into life and zipped off to the gallery. 

She saw Casimir before Cas saw her. She stood by a wall of her paintings, chin poised, shoulders set in elegant disdain. Anna thought she could have been an exhibit herself. 

She wanted to slide up to Cas unaware and affect an reintroduction on her own terms, but she was outed as soon as she got close. 

Another girl who stood next to Cas, slapped her arm, her eyes pinned on Anna and went, “Shit storm! S’that her? Cas, oh fuck me, Cassy, look babe, is that little miss Poland?” 

The girl who had, as Anna had noted with a twinge, called her ‘babe’ was quite the looker herself. A little skinny with pointed features and long slender fingers. But her hair was something else, honey and blonde that fell in sleek waves over her shoulders. And her baby blue blouse made her eyes shimmer. 

Cas turned and let out the smallest gasps of glee upon seeing Anna, “You have come!” 

Anna shrugged, “Well yeah, you asked me to.” Anna glanced up at the paintings that surrounded Cas and swore, “Shit, Cas… this is fucking beautiful.” 

“Yeah, she’s good, right?” the other woman said with a smirk, she stuck out her hand, it was bedecked in long blue fingernails, “Mary Lightly, call me Lights though, you got a real name, Poland?” 

Anna shook her hand, “Yeah, Annalee Kearn-Warthrop. You can call me Anna.” 

“Cas ain’t ever shut up ‘bout you, ever since she saw you gettin’ carted off in Poland, shit she carries on.” 

Cas, a touch of color high in her cheeks looked away and refused to meet Lights’ eyes. 

Anna smirked, “Is that so?” 

“Hey, Poland, you check out that big paintin’ in the middle.” 

Anna looked up at it. All of them were beautiful, oil on canvas, and nothing delicate either, thick brush strokes that gave texture to the designs. She used dark colors, deep blues and brackish reds. On the outside were seven paintings of women Anna could recognize as whores. They were painted in vivid detail, limbs held violently, exposing skin. But a smeared handprint was wiped over each of their face. The effect was unnerving. The one Lights has pointed out was entirely different and made a shiver go down Anna’s spine. It was her. A three by three square canvas portrait. Bare shoulders pointed away but looking back. Her dark eyes, wide and brought to life with the paint were haunting, looking half victim and half viper. 

“Christ,” Anna swore softly. She turned back to Cas, who stared for a moment at Anna’s lips, then raised her gaze to her eyes. Anna then, understood Jack’s meaning very well. But they were in the middle of her art show, and this woman Lights hadn’t yet been explained. Anna wouldn’t want to encroach. 

Aware of Lights’ proximity, Anna stepped deferred and stepped back. 

Lights cackled, “Oh don’t be so skittish, Poland, go on and flirt with her, we’re roomies.” 

Cas hit her lightly in the shoulder, “We are more than roommates, you fiend! You are as a sister to me!” 

“Christ on a tortilla, don’t be such a damn drama queen, anyway, Cassy, I gotta get outta here, I got a date of my own. Later, babe!” 

“Goodbye!” Cas said, clutching Lights’ hand and kissing her cheek, “I will see you at home.” 

Anna couldn’t keep the grin off her face, “You wanted me to take you out after this. That still an offer?” 

Cas pouted, “Ask me again, be more romantic.” 

Anna wet her lips and let her gaze linger on Cas’ mouth then took a half step forward, into her space and lifted her gaze to Cas’ deep eyes, “Let me take you out after this, Casimir.” This close, Cas’ perfume was intoxicating. 

Cas let her words linger on her lips as she spoke them, “Why should I?” 

Anna looked at her lips again, “You have much to celebrate.” 

“Tell me what I am to celebrate.” 

“You have an art showing of paintings that are nearly beautiful.” 

Cas gave an offended little gasp and pulled away, “What do you mean? _Nearly_ beautiful?” 

Anna’s lips twitched up into a grin and she said, “Well, in present company that particular bar is set pretty high.” 

Cas allowed herself to be flattered, “That is true,” she said, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder, “Yes, alright, Annalee Kearns-Warthrop, take me wherever you wish.” Then she stepped back and said smartly, “But, I will not leave from here, you know, you come and get me from my flat, I want shoes that are not so high.” 

Anna glanced down at the towering heels and said, “Yeah, no shit, wear pants though, I got a bike.” 

Cas raised a teasing eyebrow, “A bounty hunter with a motorbike? What a rogue I have found for myself.” 

“Pick you up at nine?” 

“Yes, here” she took out a card from her display that had her contact information on it, “Come here.” 

“If you had business cards, why’d you write on my arm?” 

“Why do you think?” 

Anna grinned, “See you at nine.” 

_______

In the intermittent time Anna washed her bike and called Will. 

“Anna!” He said when he answered, “You haven’t called in ages!” 

“Yeah, and I don’t have long, I’ll call again later. Look, do you buy flowers on first dates?” 

“Why are you asking me?” 

“Because you’re the most romantic person I know.” 

“D’you have a date?” He asked, brotherly teasing coming into his voice, “Finally, you haven’t dated since you lived at home.” 

“Excuse you, I have too, I just haven’t told you about them.” 

“Well what makes this one so different? Why do you need my help?” 

“God she’s like unbelievable, Will I gotta impress her.” 

“You know, my track record isn’t exactly great…”

“Only because your aim sucks,” She said.

“Says the girl who dated Erik Torrence!” 

“Seriously? That was like ten years ago.” 

“It was still stupid, and I don’t want you to forget how stupid it was. So, you’ve got a date with a girl who’s unbelievable? When did you start dating girls?” 

“Right fucking now, Henry, come on, is that the most important thing?” 

“Settle down, Warthrop, just trying to keep tabs on you. If I ever have to set you up with somebody I wanna know my options.” 

“I gotta pick her up in an hour, Will Henry, snap to! Flowers or no?” 

“You’re an asshole, Warthrop, obviously get her flowers.” 

“Thanks, Will, I’ll call tomorrow and chat.”

“Wait, Anna, you coming home for Christmas? Dr. Warthrop was upset last year when you didn’t make it, Dr. Kearns too.” 

“Yes, Will, I’ll be home for Christmas.” 

“You didn’t call Jack on his birthday” 

Anna swore, “Goddammit, I forgot. Shit. I’ll call him tomorrow and apologize.” 

“You’d better, he was pretty bummed, but you have a date to get ready for. Call me tomorrow.” 

“Bye Will, love you.” 

“Love you too.” 

Anna hung up and tucked her phone into her pocket. She swung astride her bike and found the only florist she could that was still open. She hadn’t ever bought flowers for anybody. She wandered around the store with only the vague notion that roses seemed pedestrian. It wasn’t like her fathers had ever bought each other flowers. She didn’t have much to go on. 

Finally, when her time was almost up, she settled on peonies, for their wild look that still seemed beautiful. 

She tucked them with care inside the compartment of her bike and sped off to find Cas’ flat. It was easy enough to locate and, only a little nervous, she took out the flowers and rang the buzzer. She was let up immediately and ascended the staircase to their loft on the top floor. She knocked on the door, which Cas, after a deliberately long wait, answered. 

She had dressed down, dark jeans and a draping black silk shirt with golden hardware at the wrists and collar. Anna swore, which made Cas smile. 

“I… I brought you these, Cas.” Anna said, holding out the flowers, “You said you wanted romantic.” 

Cas took them and said, “Why these?” 

Anna went pink, “I thought you’d like them, reminded me of your paintings a little, and you. Sort of wild, fucking beautiful.” 

Cas didn’t lose eye contact with Anna as she set the flowers down on a table inside the door, when her hands were free she said, “I am going to be untoward.” 

“Sure, Cas.” 

Cas came forward in slow deliberate steps and pushed Anna against the back wall of the hallway by this hips. Anna could barely breathe. Cas leaned her body against Anna’s and kissed her. 

Anna’s hands leapt around Cas, on at her waist and one into her hair that Anna had wanted to touch since she had first seen her on a Polish street two years ago. It was as soft as she had thought. Her perfume clouded Anna’s thoughts and she returned the kiss with desperation. 

By the time Cas stepped back Anna was utterly transfixed. 

“You were going to take me somewhere on your motorbike,” Cas reminded her, although there was a breathless quality to her voice. 

“What? Oh- yeah. Yeah, I thought you’d be hungry after standing at your art thing all night.” 

“I am,” Cas said, “Famished. But I will first put those flowers in a vase, I want them to keep.” 

“You like them?” 

“I love peonies,” She said, “You were right. My favorite.” 

“Really?” Anna asked, unable to hide her glee.

Cas fluttered her eyelashes, “Well they certainly are now, bounty hunter.” 

It took every single ounce of self restraint Anna had to keep herself from jumping Cas then and there, although she didn’t miss a moment of Cas walking away to fetch a vase and deposit her flowers. 

When she had returned Anna led her downstairs to her bike. Cas straddled the bike behind her and Anna barely bit back a groan at the feeling of Cas pressed against her back, thighs on either side of her, hands around her waist, breath against her neck. This morning her evening plans had been takeout and a movie at home. 

In her ear Cas whispered in her husky alto, “Take me to your favorite place, Anna.” 

Anna’s self control broke and she twisted in her seat, pulled Cas to her and kissed her again. She passed her tongue over Cas’ lips and like mana from the heavens they parted and Anna tasted her. It wasn’t a comfortable position, twisted so far around, but Anna barely noticed, tasting every inch of Cas’ mouth, fire burning through her blood. She groaned against Cas’ lips when her hands came up to slide through Anna’s hair, tugging softly. 

Finally they broke apart, both breathing rather hard, Cas’ lips parted and swollen. Her eyes slicing into Anna’s. 

“Ok,” Anna said, panting slightly, “My favorite place, you got it, whatever you want.”


	19. Transfixed: Part II

**Transfixed: Part II**

Cas, poised on the back of the bike, wrapped her arms securely around Anna, enjoying the smell of her hair as it fluttered into her face. Anna revved the bike, enjoying taking tight corners that required Cas to tighten her hold on Anna’s waist. 

There was a quicker way to the restaurant but Anna wound around side streets, prolonging the drive. Eventually, she parked the bike on a skinny back street and swung off of it, Cas dismounting after her with a bit more elegance.

“You promised me romance,” Cas said a little disparagingly, looking at the establishment in front of them. 

“You asked for my favorite place, don’t be coy if you don’t mean it,” Anna said, sideways grin in place. 

Cas made an imitation of a disparaging sigh, “And you were so pretty.” 

Anna swatted her playfully on the arm then, less smoothly than she imagined, slid her hand down Cas’ forearm to take her hand, “Come on, you’ll love it.” 

From the outside the place looked seedy indeed, a single unilluminated sign over a windowless door calling itself, “The Boiler Room.” 

Anna led Cas through the door and down a long staircase. Without warning, it opened up to a well lit little basement. A bar spanned one wall, bedecked in industrial style decor. Little booths and tables speckled the remaining space cast in a warm and inviting light. The lack of windows was more than made up for by the coziness of the space. 

Anna held up two fingers toward the hostess who led them to an intimate little booth in a back corner. They both ordered burgers, Anna asking for a daiquiri and Cas for a whiskey coke. 

When the waitress had left Anna, who had the better seat, facing out toward the rest of the bar motioned Cas with a slight flick of her head, “Come over to this side, we can talk better, and people watch.” 

Cas did not have to be asked twice, she slid around so that they sat beside each other rather than across. She sat close enough to Anna that their thighs ran together. Cas settled in, tucking herself cozily against Anna. 

Cas looked over at her with a slight pout, “Did you really like my painting?” 

“Yeah, Cas,” Anna said, “Shit, it was great. I loved them.”

Cas laughed, “Only because it was of you, I think.” 

Anna nudged her with an elbow, “That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said. How’d you do that, by the way? You only saw me for like a minute.” 

Cas let her eyes become hooded and said in her sultry alto, “The very hour, the very minute that you turned that corner out of my sight I returned to my home and drew you. Over and over until I had you as I remembered. And then I set you to paint so I could look into those eyes whenever I wished.” 

“So how was your memory?” Anna asked catching her gaze, “Do I stack up?” 

Cas’ eyes fluttered over Anna’s cheekbones, to the point of her chin and up to the arch of her brow, across the curves of her lips and the shadows upon her neck, “Oh yes, Anna,” she whispered, “My memory brought to life in flesh.” 

Anna wet her lips, “I would very much like to kiss you again.” 

Cas raised her hand to Anna’s face and cupped her chin, her thumb running over Anna’s lower lip, “Have a little bit of restraint, bounty hunter.” 

Instead of kissing her, Anna dropped an arm over her shoulder and leaned against the back of the booth. Beneath the table, Cas’ fingers traced over Anna’s knee. 

Their drinks and burgers came and Cas set to with gusto. 

“You know, I have not had a single bite to eat since breakfast. I am entirely starved.” 

“Why not?” Anna asked, aghast, “Trying to look good in that dress?” 

Cas look was withering, “You think there is a thing I could do that would make me not look so good in that dress?” 

Anna answered her honestly, “No. So why’d you skip lunch.” 

“I cannot be nervous?” 

“For your art show?”

She batted her eyes, “For the beautiful girl coming to my art show.” 

“You mean the one featured in your painting?” 

“Then you see why I was nervous. Were you not nervous at all?” 

“Yeah, no I was,” Anna assured her, “I couldn’t figure out what to wear.” 

“You chose alright. Must not have been so nervous.” 

A little pink Anna confessed, “I called my dad, to ask for help.” 

Cas let out a cackling laugh, “You called your papa! And he told you what? To look as much as a rakish bounty hunter as you could, yes?”

“Well he didn’t phrase it quite like that.” 

“So which is he, the Kearns or the Warthrop?” 

“Well I talked to both, but Kearns gave me the advice, Jack. The Warthrop is Pellinore.”

Cas gasped, “You have two papas and you call them before dates! That is so sweet. What a family girl you are!” Then she gasped and covered her mouth, “Wait, Anna, what does your papa Jack Kearns do? Is he a bounty hunter like you, yes?” 

“Yeah...how the hell did you?”

“He is blonde, yes? And so dashing?” There was the thrill of excitement in her voice.

“Yeah…”

Cas hooted, “Oh ah!” she flapped her hands, “I have found him for you, Lights, you fiend!” 

“What the hell are you talking about? How do you know Jack?” 

She calmed a little, “No, no we do not know him. Not so much. Lights yes, you remember from the art show? She loves this silly drama you know with the real people. I don’t remember what it is called but it is where they catch the predators.” 

Anna groaned, “Yeah...its called To Catch a Predator, he is in an episode, I’m pretty familiar with it.” 

“Ach! You think that you are! She says he is her celebrity crush, but I say, how could he be if he is in this silly program, it is not a movie! He is not Jenna Fischer!” 

“How’d she even get his name?” 

Cas sighed dramatically, “It is in the credits, at the very bottom, she looked. Oh, she will be devastated, her Jack Kearns has a little girl! And a man named Pellinore!”

“Yeah...he’s pretty tied down.” 

“And you follow in his little bootprints, yes? You see, you are a family girl!” Then she went a little pink, “You will not tell him, Anna. Please? Lights would be so shamed.” 

“For more reasons that that I would never tell him.”

“Thank you.” 

Cas turned back to her dinner, picking at it with a fork. In a softer voice she asked, “Can you tell me? Those men in Krakow? Did you get them?”

“Yeah, Cas,” Anna said with a smirk, “They’re rotting in supermax stateside.” 

Cas smiled, “I would very much like to kiss you again.” 

“Have a little restraint.”

She pouted, “Then you stop being so…” she paused and bit her lower lip, “...ravageable.” 

Anna suffered somewhat of a headrush, “I’ll do my best, can’t make any promises.” 

Cas, now finished with her burger, snuggled herself under Anna’s arm, kicking her feet up on the booth seat across from them and sipped her drink. 

“Alright,” Anna said, “First date question, favorite TV show?” 

Cas barely paused, answering at once, “The American Office! I love it! Puts me in the stitches yes? And I love Pam and Jim!” She clutched her heart with her hand, “You watch it, yes?” 

“No, I haven’t.” 

Cas turned to look at her aghast, “You foul little termite! Why!” She asked as though questioning why Anna had set half a village ablaze. 

Anna laughed helplessly, “Just never got around to it I guess.”

“Perhaps I will show it to you someday. I can hardly believe! An American who has not seen it. Now I have a question for you.”

“Shoot.” 

“What is your favorite breakfast?” She looked up and winked, “That I could make it for you.” 

Anna laughed, “You’re incorrigible.” 

Cas bit her lip and wiggled her shoulders against Anna, “Yes. I am.” Then she knocked back the rest of her drink and said, in a much more conversational tone, “Where are you from, American?” 

“New York City when I was a kid, then New England. You?”

“Born in Krakow, where I tried desperately to save this beautiful girl but she was so foolish, she did not listen! How was I to know she was a big tough bounty hunter when she looked so little and kissable.” 

They spent at the bar collecting first date tidbits: favorite movies and colors and bands. Cas perpetually teasing. After more than two hours they finally rose from the table and went back up to Anna’s bike. 

Just as Anna was about to ask if she wanted to go somewhere else Cas put her slim hand to her face to cover a long yawn. 

She blushed, “It is not you. I promise.” 

Anna grinned, “You had a long day I bet, what with setting up your show and standing all day in those heels, not to mention meeting a dashing bounty hunter.” 

“I hope you are not disappointed,” Cas said, pouting. 

“You’ll make it up to me.”

Cas smiled, flicking her gaze between Anna’s eyes and lips, “Yes?” she asked softly, sidling closer to Anna, “How would you suggest I make it up to you?” 

Anna grinned and laid her hands on Cas’ hips, she tugged her closer. Cas was half an inch or so taller than Anna, so she had to tilt her head up a bit. Cas’ lips were slightly parted and, this close it made it a little difficult for Anna to draw breath. 

But, not without considerable effort, she said, “Get brunch with me tomorrow.” 

Cas blinked and tsked, “Are you not supposed to be a little more cagey? Not let on how desperate you are to see me again?” 

Anna breathed out a laugh, “I like you, Cas. I want to see you again. Soon as I can.” 

An unteasing and gleeful little smile broke out on Cas’ face, “Say you like me one more time.” 

Anna smirked, “I like you, Cas.” 

“Tell me why.” 

Anna was helpless to resist, “Your eyes. And you tried to help me in Krakow, they would have killed you if they had heard, jesus you’re brave as shit. And you paint like a fucking goddess.” 

Cas kissed her, slow and purposeful. She dragged her tongue across Anna’s lips, who parted them with a soft noise and her tongue began slowly caressing Anna’s, her hands drifting up and down Anna’s sides. 

Anna stiffened her grip on Cas’ hips and whimpered. 

Cas slipped her hands inside Anna’s leather jacket and trailed over her t-shirt making Anna’s stomach flutter. Cas broke the kiss to whisper into Anna’s ear, “Take me home.” 

“Yeah,” Anna breathed with a helpless smirk. She mounted her bike and Cas climbed on behind her, breath in Anna’s ear, hands teasing around her waist. Anna made short work of the streets between the bar and Cas’ flat, pulling up at the curb in record time. 

Before they dismounted Cas whispered, “My lovely flatmate is out for the evening, will you come up?” 

“Absolutely.” 

Cas took her by the hand and led her up the stairs. She unlocked her door and tugged Anna through it. 

The flat was rather small and not originally intended as a living space. The only room actually separate from the main was a little bathroom, the kitchen was off to the left of the door, just a stove and oven with a little wooden table nearby and a rolling cart of kitchenware. On the opposite side two bedrooms had been marked off with folding silk screens. One entire corner of the place was swaddled in filthy drop cloth, splattered with paint, canvases, complete, fresh and half finished either placed carefully to dry to lined up against each other on the wall. 

Cas shut the door and turned on Anna, a nearly predatory look in her eyes. Her hips swayed as she approached and, when she was almost pressed against her she reached out and took Anna’s leather jacket in both of her hands, peeling it slowly off of Anna’s shoulders. Without breaking eye contact she tossed it over the back of a chair. 

Anna surged forward and pressed her lips to Cas’ hungrily. Cas wasted no time, sliding her fingers under the hem of Anna’s shirt, fingertips brushing the soft skin beneath. 

Anna wove one of her hand through Cas’ thick hair, still marveling at the feel of it. The other trailing down Cas’ side, fingers lingering over the swell of her breast. Anna tugged at Cas’ hair, pulling her head back slightly. She slid her lips along Cas’ jaw and kissed down her delicate throat. Cas shuddered and emitted a breathtaking noise from her throat. 

Cas lowered her hands and gripped Anna by the hips, directing her backward toward one of the bedroom partitions. 

Anna, breathless, stopped her backward march and put her hands on Cas’ hips, pressing her back, “Wait,” Anna said, trying to steady her breathing, “Can we stop?” 

Cas drew back, concern drawing her brows together, “Did I do something-”

“No. No. I just…” Anna bit her lip, “I want to...know you better before…”

Cas’ eyes became wide and velvety soft, “Yes, of course.” She kissed Anna very delicately, “I would like to have brunch with you tomorrow, yes?” 

Anna smiled, “Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow, around eleven?” 

Anna retrieved her jacket and made for the door.

Cas caught her hand and pulled her back to kiss her again, “You are something, Annalee Kearns-Warthrop.” 

“You too Casimir Schep- Szch- “

Cas tutted softly, “You’ll get it.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Cas.” 

“Yes,” she said, “Yes, I will count the hours, bounty hunter.”


	20. Christmas: Part I: Christmas Eve Affliction

**Christmas: Part I: Christmas Eve Affliction**

“Hey, Cas?” Anna asked. They had been seeing each other, nearly constantly, for the last almost two months. To Anna, it felt like much longer, still this request made her nervous. It was far beyond the regular bounds of a two month old relationship. But she almost never got home and she felt so sure about Cas.

“Yes, Anna?” She asked, looking up at her. They were reclining on the couch at Anna’s flat, Anna leaning against the armrest and Cas draped over the top of her, 

“I’m going home for Christmas in a couple of days, to see my family. I know...well it’s only been a few months but...do you...would you come with me?” 

Cas peered up at her, “You want me to meet your family? There was a quality to her voice that made it quieter than it ever was. 

“Yeah, I do. I’d get your ticket and everything.” 

“You tell me why.” 

“Why?” Anna said, she leaned down and kissed Cas’ hair, “Because I’ve got good instincts, and I like you. I hardly ever get to get home and I want to introduce you to my family. They want to meet you.” 

“Will you tell them what I am?” She didn’t look at Anna when she said it, but tucked herself against the back of the couch.   
Anna was a little lost, “...that you’re an artist?”

Cas scowled and twisted to look around at Anna, “No, Anna, what I _am_! The kind of thing!” 

“You mean what you used to do? Like that you were an escort?” 

Cas flung herself up from the couch, her hair flying around her as she lashed around, “I am a whore!”

Anna got up after her, “I used to run drugs, you know? Coke. Lot’s of it, for almost a year. I took out a kid’s eyes once. I shot - I shot somebody.” 

Cas deflated some and tucked her hair behind her ears, “What are you saying? You are making some point but I am not following.”

“Who cares what you used to do, Cas.”

“You do not care?” 

“No, shit, don’t you think I’dda said something?” 

Cas looked down at the floor, “I am very pretty.” 

Anna took an involuntary step back, “That’s insulting. You think I’d stick around because you’re pretty? Is that what you think?” 

“No! Anna! No one asks me to meet their family! No one ever has! You are a bounty hunter and you go and will be gone for who knows maybe months and then visit London yes? And here am I, very pretty to kiss!”

Anna crossed her arms over her chest, her voice was thick, “Is that it, huh?” she asked, “You got me figured out, don’t you, Casimir. I’m just here to roll through town and fuck you till my next job, huh? Shit!” She yelled and, infuriatingly, tears slid down her cheeks. 

“Anna, you are become upset,” Like always, when tension ran high, her English suffered.

“Yeah, no shit!” Anna said, her fierceness offset by the tears, “You think I’m some dirtbag.” 

“No, Anna. I think you call your papas before we go to dinner and you visit them on the Christmas and ask me to come. Anna, when you go off to be bounty hunting you were going to call me, yes? You would send me things and came home soon and tell me you miss me, yes?” 

“Yeah, Cas.” 

Her own tears streaked down Cas’ cheeks, her lip trembling, “I am only try to understand what you are doing with me!” 

Anna lunged forward at her and kissed her, her hands on either side of Cas’ face. She pulled back, leaning her forehead against Cas’ and said, “Can’t have beauty and brains, I guess.” 

Cas walloped her, “You fiend!” 

“Come to Christmas with me, Cas, I want you to meet my family. And in January I got a job lined up, and I’m gonna call you all the damn time, I’m gonna be really annoying.” 

Cas rubbed her nose against Anna’s, “Yes, ok, yes, I will go to America with you and meet your family. Tell me, yes, what are they like?” 

Anna tugged Cas back to the couch and snuggled against her, running her fingers through her long thick hair, “Oh Cas...they are so weird.”

“Will they like me?” 

“Jack will, I think, my dad, Pellinore, doesn’t really...like people. Will’s gonna adore you.” 

“He is your brother, yes?” 

“Pretty much, my dad’s ex-assistant, til he went to school. It’s complicated.”

“Jack Kearns, and Will Henry, and Pellinon Warthrop?”

“Pellinore.” 

“Pellinore, ok, yes. I will come to Christmas with you. But you know that means that I can claim you now, yes.” She turned around so she was lying face down atop Anna, grin in place, “That is the truth you know, yes? If I meet your papas you cannot go off kissing other girls. You are belonging to me.” She kissed her way from Anna’s exposed collarbone, up her neck to her jaw. 

Anna hummed in contentment, “So can I start introducing you as my girlfriend, rather than this hot chick I’m hooking up with?” 

Cas pinched her, “you fiend! Yes, call me your girlfriend. This is what you want, yes?” 

“Yeah,” Anna said, kissing her, “Could you hand me my phone?” 

“Yes, sure,” Cas said reaching over to the coffee table and giving Anna her phone, “You are calling your papas?” 

Anna looked down at the screen and said distractedly, “Oh, no, I was texting all the other girls I’ve been kissing telling them I’m off the market.” 

Cas whacked her forehead, “You are not, there are no other girls. I am right, yes?” 

Anna laughed, “Course you are, Cas, what would be the point of kissing anybody else when I got you?” 

Cas giggled gleefully and rubbed her nose against Anna’s. 

________________________________________________

Three days before they were to leave for Christmas she called home, digging through her pile of half dirty laundry, looking for her favorite shirt. 

“Annalee Kearns-Warthrop if you are calling to tell us you will not be returning for Christmas than I will require you send reimbursement for the ticket that I purchased for you,” Pellinore snapped by way of greeting. 

“Calm down, dad, I’m going-”

“Anna? Is that you?” Will’s voice came on the line, “You’re still coming aren’t you? You can’t cancel again, we haven’t seen you in ages.” 

“Don’t -”

“Anna, this is the third Christmas in a row that you have skipped out on, I am beginning to believe that you dislike us,” Jack said after picking up another phone. 

“Stop talking all three of you,” She demanded, “I’m coming home, I leave in three days just like I planned, I’ll be there on Christmas Eve.”

 

“Then why are you calling?” Pellinore asked, “You understand the cost of international minutes do you not?”

“For God’s sake, dad, can I say four sentences? I’m not coming-”

“What do you mean you aren’t coming?” Jack put in, “You have only just said that you were!” 

“Christ, let me talk, I’m not coming alone!” 

Dead silence met her statement. 

Will broke it, “So we get to meet Cas?” 

“Yeah!” She said, “She’s excited about it.” 

“Who the hell is Cas?” Pellinore asked.

“The girl she has taken up with, Pellinore,” Jack reprimanded, “Keep up. What is her name, now?”

 

“Casimr.”

“Last name?” 

“Szczpanik.”

“And where did you say she’s from?” 

“Krakow, why? Damnit, Jack!” she said catching on, “Don’t run a background check on my girlfriend!” 

Will said, “Is she official then? Congrats, Anna!”

“Thanks, I mean, I am bringing her home.” 

“You are making this announcement as if you have free reign to impose company upon us,” Pellinore said, “You cannot keep this right when you have refused to visit for so long.” 

She sighed, “Can I bring Cas home, dad?” 

Bitterly he said, “I am not sure, _can_ you?” 

“Jesus, _may_ I?” 

“Hmm, John, what do you think?” 

“That is a good question, Pellinore, perhaps we want all of your attention and don’t want it stolen away by Polish women.” 

“I really want you guys to meet her.” 

“I suppose she will be tolerated,” Pellinore said, “Hang up now, you are being a spendthrift, we will see you in only a few days.” He took a short pause then said, “Do you require someone to pick you up from the airport?” 

“Yeah, that’d be great.” 

“Then you ought to call John Chanler.” And he hung up. 

“The Daytona is out of commission at the moment,” Jack said in explanation. 

Shouted, Anna heard Pellinore shouting over the receiver, “Only because you broke it, Kearns!” 

Kearns covered the mouthpiece so his retort was muffled, “I did not such thing, Warthrop, it only broke while I was using it, I had nothing to do with its demise!” 

“There has been no demise! It will be fixed in short order!” 

Will said, “John called and said he wasn’t coming until Christmas Day, I’ll come get you.” 

“Thanks, Will, see you in a few days.” 

“Bye, Anna.” 

__________________________________________________________________________

“Alright, so we are going to meet Will, Will Henry, my dad, um, Pellinore Warthrop’s assistant. Used to be. I guess he isn’t any more. But he is back living at home so I don’t really know. Maybe he’s helping out again. But he’s sort of my brother and sort of not,” Anna said all of this very fast, mussing her hair with her hand. 

She and Cas had just gotten off of the plane in New York and Anna had been jittery the whole way. 

“Yes, Anna, I know, you have told me this ten thousand times. I understand, yes, your family is big and messy and full of strange people, you make yourself clear. Tell me, how do I look? Awful, yes? Let me stop in a bathroom and fix up before we meet him.” 

“You look beautiful, Cas, you always do. Well your hair is a little squashed.”

Anna followed Cas into the bathroom so she could fix her hair and wipe away some of her smeared makeup to reapply, “There, now I look like a person,” she said, “Let us find your Will.” 

They went off to baggage claim and picked up Cas’ checked bag. Anna owned so little her regular bag of clothes was carry on sized. All she had left behind were her guns. Cas hoisted her bag up when it came around and they left to find Will. 

Anna could hardly help but call out when she saw him. She hadn’t seen him in person since he was twenty one, two years ago. He was a little taller, with sharper features and clothing that fit him better. She raced to him and hugged him fiercely. He returned the embrace with equal fervor, 

“Will!” She said when he released her, “You look good, like a real human adult almost!” 

“You going to introduce me or what?” Will said, looking behind her at Cas, who was lurking behind Anna’s shoulder.

“Oh, right, Will, this is my girlfriend, Cas, Cas, this is Will.” 

Cas swooped at Will with a beaming smile, “Will Henry, yes! I have heard so much of you! So tall and handsome!” She took his proffered hand to shake delicately in both of hers and stood on her tip toes to kiss both of Will’s cheeks. 

Will went brilliantly pink, “I’ve heard a lot about you too, Cas. I’m glad to finally meet you.” 

“Yes, yes, my Anna tells me that you are just finished with school, yes? That is so wonderful, Will Henry!”

Will, who did not yet have his hands back said, “Oh, um, thank you, yeah, in journalism.” 

Cas kissed his cheek again, “A noble profession, Will Henry!”

“Let him breath a little, Cas, we should get out of here,” Anna said. 

Cas released Will with a final kiss to his cheeks.

“Can I carry your bag for you, Cas?” Will asked politely.

“Oh you doll!” She said, kissing his cheek again and letting him carry her chic leather bag. 

Will caught Anna’s eye behind Cas’ back and lifted his eyebrows. Anna shrugged helplessly. 

He took them to his car, Anna let Cas sit up front and folded herself into the backseat of Will’s car for the ride. She chatted at Will the entire way back to New Jerusalem, interrogating him for every detail of his life. 

When they were pulling in, Anna said, “So is the whole crew coming tomorrow for dinner?” 

“Yeah, when they heard you were coming with your new girl, everybody signed on to coming, plus the doctor called them all about a hundred times.” 

Cas turned in her seat and cupped Anna’s cheek in her outstretched hand, “Aw, Anna, your papa misses you! You do not go home enough, I think.” 

“God, you sound like dad.” 

She tapped Anna’s cheek in a little slap, “You have two lovely papas and this big strapping brother and do not come to visit home? You foolish thing. Will Henry, she should come home more, you think so yes?” 

Will laughed and parked, “Yeah, she hasn’t been back in two years.” 

Cas gasped, “You fiend, Anna!” She whapped her again, “You silly little thing.” 

Anna pulled both of their bags out of the car when they got out and took Cas’ hand on the way to the door, “Ok, so you remem-”

“Yes, yes, Anna, it is all you talk about on the airplane. The cute blonde papa is Jack Kearns and he is a bounty hunter and the scowling dark one is Pellinore Warthrop and he is a scientist.” 

“Aren’t you nervous?” 

Cas rolled her eyes, “People love me, Anna, do not worry, I am very charming.” 

Will held the door open for them and, with no trepidation, Cas walked in, her high heels clicking on the hardwood.

“Hey, dad! Jack!” Anna said coming in, “We’re here!” 

Jack came down the steps, grin in place. Anna recognized the grin, he was in true form and ready to make Cas squirm. Anna looked at Will and smirked. 

Cas lit up and put both of her hands, with perfectly painted fingernails in glittering christmas red, on her clavicle, “Oh, Anna's blonde papa, Mr. Jack Kearns, you look so much sweeter off of the television! Anna speaks so fondly of you!” She fluttered forward and took both of his rather startled hands in hers, wrapping her fingers over the top of them. Then kissed first one of his cheeks and then the other, “I am so happy to be meeting you, Mr. Jack Kearns, you are the one who taught Anna to be what she is, yes? You must be such a fine papa. Is she not so sweet? You know if you are half of the brave hero your Anna is you Mr. Pellinore must think you a dream.”

Jack, recovering from his initial shock positively beamed at Cas, “And you most charming of house guests must be the aforementioned Casimir Szczpanik. And you are quite right, Pellinore finds me quite the dream. I have been looking forward to meeting you, Casimir. Still putting up with Anna, are you?” 

“Oh,” not releasing Jack’s hands to turned to look fondly at Anna, “Is she not the most lovely thing? But Mr. Jack Kearns you must call me Cas, yes?” 

“Ah, then return the courtesy and call me Jack, if you like. Now, you mentioned television, you couldn’t mean my brief appearance on that reality show could you?” 

“Oh yes, I have seen it often, Jack, you are so dashing with your jumping out of the cupboard and stopping the horrible man!” 

Jack seemed nearly giddy, “Yes, I was rather dashing, was I not? Now I cannot _wait_ for you to meet Pellinore.” Jack looked over Cas’ shoulder and said, “Anna, when you were gushing about how beautiful your lovely Casimir was you did not mention how charming she was.” 

Cas gave a charmed gasp and kissed Jack’s cheeks again, “You scoundrel! Anna did also not tell me that you were such a rogue!” 

He winked, “She must have told you next to nothing about me then, but let’s get you to the library to meet Pellinore. I’m sure he is dying to make your acquaintance.” 

Jack led her by the hand down the stairs she had ascended to meet him and passed Anna and Will toward the library. Unwilling to miss it, Anna and Will followed them. 

When the entered the library, Pellinore stood. He had been cleaned up and polished until he looked impressively refined. He stared down at Cas. She looked entirely out of place in Pellinore Warthrop’s library. His dusty tomes and scholastic knick-knacks juxtaposed against her cowled dark green sweater than seemed cozy and refined all at once and glimmering makeup. 

“Ah,” He said with a slight frown, “Yes, you must be Miss Szczpanik.” His eyes flickered from her scarlet nails to her five inch heels. 

She crossed the library with a broad smile and excited gasp, “And you are so clearly Dr. Pellinore Warthrop, yes?” she said. Like she had with Kearns, she took both of his hands between hers, clutching his long fingers and kissed both of his cheeks, “Anna has spoken so highly of you, Dr. Pellinore. She tells me all of your important science and how you speak and those meetings with your society. She says you are the very best, but, Dr. Pellinore, if even a smidgen of the things that she says that you have done are truth then that still must undersell you, yes? It is my honor so much to be meeting you!” Once more she pressed her lips to first one cheek and then the other, leaving faint traces of her lipstick on his pale skin. 

Warthrop was entirely stiff, holding himself completely rigid. The combination of unexpected physical affection from a stranger in his own library and the high praise seemed to have stolen his ability to react. 

Will, ever the dutiful assistant, came to his aid, “Yes, I’m sure the doctor is pleased to meet you as well, Cas.” 

Warthrop snapped back and pulled his hands from Cas’ grasp, “Hm, yes, quite. Anna says that you are an artist. That seems…” Behind them Kearns cleared his throat deliberately and Pellinore finished, “...fulfilling.” 

“Oh yes, Dr. Pellinore, but please do be telling me more of what you do, yes? Anna makes it sound so very interesting. You study parasites, yes? And you save people from them also? You must be as noble as your fair Jack Kearns.” 

Pellinore snorted, “If that is the standard of nobility I am sure that even I might surpass it.” 

“Ach!” She said, “I am sure he is the hero that Anna is! And you she tells to me have had a speech in October, yes? A lecture that you write with your paper on the parasites for your field? She is saying that it was the keystone paper in this whole meeting with your society, yes? That is so much an accomplishment, though to you maybe not so much?” 

Pellinore basked under the compliments, “Did Anna tell you all of that? Well, yes actually, I did present a rather important paper at this year’s colloquium, I invited Anna to come but,” he glowered at Anna, “she was unable to draw herself away. Although, perhaps you might be blamed for her absence.” 

Cas tapped his slender nose with the tip of her well manicured finger, he jumped, “No, no you cannot, Dr. Pellinore, if it was in October, that we her own doing. But for shame, Anna,” she said admonishingly to her, “Not seeing your papa for his so important speaking.”

“Hey,” Anna defended, “I was hunting a murderer through the mountains in Germany, I was busy.” 

Jack grinned at her, “We shall have to swap war stories over supper, my darling, that sounds positively enrapturing.” 

Pellinore furrowed his brow, looking dissectingly over each inch of Cas, in that tone he used when he was interrogating someone while on a hunt he said, “We have been told extremely little about you, Miss Szczpanik.”

“Oh, please, you must call me, Cas!” 

Pellinore ignored this, he clasped his hands behind his back, “I find it odd that the two of you met so abruptly, Anna hinted that you might have known each other before. How is it that you met?”

She flashed him a smile, but Anna’s alerts went up, “Oh you know,” Cas said, “Like Anna said, yes, we had spoken at Krakow a few years ago and then ‘Pop’ she was there in London.”

“Hmm,” he said. 

Jack circled the room to lurk at Pellinore’s shoulder, rather than stopping this line of questioning, Jack picked up a bauble and inspected it, seeming to have no care in the world for the conclusion of the interrogation. 

Pellinore lost his patience with propriety and, leaning over her said, “It was not difficult to discover the nature of your previous profession. Artist indeed.”

“Dad!” Anna yelled. 

Pellinore clearly expected her to cower, but she did nothing of the sort. She drew herself up and steeled her eyes at him, “And what of it? What do you have to say to me?” 

“Fuck off, Dad!” Anna said. 

“So you knew?” Jack said, looking up rather lazily. 

“Yeah, I fucking did, alright. What’s your problem?” 

Will stuck in, “I don’t know if Christmas is really the time for this.” But he was ignored.

Pellinore waved away Jack’s comment, “I will not have you fornicating with my daughter if you are incubating some foreign affliction.” 

Anna swore but Cas slid straight up to him, her dark eyes shining, “You do the listening to me, Dr. Pellinore Warthrop, that thing that I was is for me and for Anna and not you at all.”

“If you provide a sample of your blood I could determine-”

Without an ounce of trepidation she interrupted Warthrop and said, “If you keep nosing in my medicine, Mister Doctor, then I think you find a little of your blood easy to sample!”

“Are you threatening me?” He said, looming over her.

“Yes. I tell no lies to Anna. And look at her now, she is shaking she is so upset. Why you make her sad on Christmas when she is never home? You let my Anna be!”

Warthrop’s mouth turned down in a sneer, “ _Your_ Anna? She is my daughter.” 

“And she is grown woman and I keep not a single secret, so hush now. It is Christmas Eve, yes, and you are Anna’s papas and I do not want to smack your nose.” 

Jack let out a bark of a laugh, “She’s got you, Pell, perhaps you ought to let it go.” 

Pellinore locked his hands behind his back again and sized her up once more, “Yes, well, Will Henry has prepared dinner for us, I believe. Lead on, Will Henry. And move my chair around to the end, I suppose Anna would like to sit next to Cas.” 

Anna took Cas’ hand a little protectively and kissed her cheek, she whispered, “I’m sorry, Cas.” 

Cas smiled, “No, no, he is a papa worried for his little girl. It is so sweet.”

“You’re a dream, Cas.” 

Cas winked at Jack as he walked passed them, “Yes, Anna, I know that I am.”


	21. Christmas: Part 2: Christmas Tree

**Christmas Part II: Christmas Tree**

Pellinore had dictated that Anna and Cas were to be staying in separate bedrooms for the duration of the stay. Anna squared Cas away in the one adjacent to hers, bid her goodnight, and closed the door. Then she turned on her heel and stalked down the stairs. 

“Where is he?” She asked Will who was cleaning up from dinner. 

“In the basement, you shouldn’t go down there, though, he’s in a foul mood.”

“Yeah, me to,” Anna said back. And she must have been, for she neither swore nor snarled. Her voice was level and cut clean of inflection. She swished passed Will and descended into her father’s basement laboratory. 

“Good, Will Henry, you have finished with the dishes and come to help me. Hand me my scalpel,” Pellinore said without turning around. 

Anna did not respond, she just stood at the bottom of the steps, eyes fixed on the back of his head. 

“Will Henry, snap to!” 

When still no scalpel appeared in his outstretched fingers he turned with a glower and blinked, meeting Anna’s chilly gaze. 

“You are not Will Henry.” 

“God, you really are brilliant.” 

He stripped off his latex gloves and furrowed his brow, “If you have come down here because you harbor some discontent over my discussion with your Polish prostitute then I have very little to say by way of apology.” 

“Incubating. Some. Foreign. Affliction.” She said, her voice soft and sharp.

He gave an unconcerned motion, “It is a viable threat given her prior employment.” 

“Its also none of your business.” 

“You and your health will always be my business.” 

“Dad,” Anna said, softening, “She was really upset. She wanted you to like her.” 

“She did not seem so upset to me.” 

“And you’re an expert now on interpreting emotions?” 

He scoffed, “Anna, it isn’t as though I were questioning a poorly chosen tattoo on some harlot you brought home, she was a criminal.” 

Inexplicably, at least to Warthrop, Anna smiled gently, “No, that makes sense, dad. I totally understand.” Her voice grew softer and softer as she spoke, “No coming back from being some sort of street thug.” 

He smiled smugly, “I am glad that you are seeing sense, Annalee. There are associations and behavior one develops from such illicit endeavors. This only compounds the danger of the myriad diseases I am certain she contracted.” 

“So, to summarize,” Anna said, a tightness in her throat, “You can’t get over being a street rat criminal. You just spend your whole life incubating an affliction. Did I get that right?”

“Yes, Anna, I believe I was quite clear.” 

“Yeah, yeah you were real clear.” She slid her wallet out of the back pocket of her jeans and withdrew a wad of money. She stepped forward and tucked it into his hand.

“What the devil is this?”

“Reimbursement for the plane ticket, I’ll be out of here by morning.” 

“What?” He asked, flummoxed, “Why would you leave? You have only just arrived. I thought you had three weeks. You cannot leave now. Tomorrow is Chri...Will will need your help tomorrow preparing dinner.” 

She bared her teeth in a poor excuse for a smile, “Nah, you made yourself pretty clear ‘bout your take on criminals, I wouldn’t want to afflict anybody.” She stalked back up the stairs. 

Warthrop stood rigidly at the foot of the stairs, allowing her to flee. 

There were tears at her cheeks by the time she was passing Will, who turned to her, “How’d it- Anna?” 

She didn’t respond, just took the stairs two at a time and knocked brusquely at Cas’ door, “Cas!”

Cas opened her door, she hadn’t yet changed into her pajamas nor unpacked, “Anna? Oh, Anna, why are you so upset?” 

“We’re going, Cas, sorry. I’m sorry. We’ll go back to London in the morning, can you just come?” 

Cas knew enough of family that she did not impose her own opinions on Anna’s request, just collected her bag. Anna grabbed her own and got all the way to the garage before anyone really realized what she was doing. She snatched the keys to her old motorcycle and pulled of the tarp that covered it.

Rather than ship a bike all the way over the Atlantic she had left her bike she had gotten when she was eighteen at home and picked up a new one for Europe. Now, she was glad that she had. She kicked it into life, happy to note that Jack had kept it working. There was even enough gas to get them to the next town over. 

She wrenched open the compartments and stuffed their things into it, then wheeled it out passed Jack’s and onto the driveway. 

Cas got on behind her said, “Anna, do not leave your family only because of me. I can go home and you stay here.” 

“Not doin’ that, Cassy,” Anna said with strained joviality. 

“Anna!” Will said, running out of the house after her, “You’re leaving? Why?” 

“Warthrop thinks it’d be best,” She said, eyes stinging. 

“What? Dr. Warthrop told you to leave?” 

“Merry Christmas, Will, sorry I can’t stick around, I’ll send you your gift.” 

“No, Anna, don’t go!” 

But she didn’t listen, just jetted off into the cold Christmas night.

The sound of the engine brought Jack out of his parlour, “Whatever is all of this fuss, Will?” He asked. 

Will, nose red from standing outside sort of stared at him, “I don’t know, Anna’s gone.” 

“Gone?” He asked sharply, “She left?” 

“Yeah, she went downstairs to talk to Dr. Warthrop and when she came back up she was crying and took off on her old bike with Cas. Dr. Kearns I don’t think she’s coming back. I don’t know she was really… I’ve never seen her like that.” 

Jack strode toward the basement, with Will tagging alone behind, the door was ajar as Anna had left it and when they descended the stairs, Warthrop was still at the bottom of them. He had not moved a quarter of an inch since Anna had gone, his muscles rigid. He still had her cash wadded up in his hand. 

“Any particular reason our dear Anna has fled into the night with her Polish beauty?” Jack asked. His voice was velvety but had an undercurrent of impatience. 

Pellinore’s eyes flickered over to him, “She did leave then?” He scowled, “Women ought to be classified as another species, John.” 

John gave him a sour look, “What did you say to her?” 

Warthrop drew himself up, folding the money into his pocket, “I said nothing that was not true. She is just too enamored of her streetwalker to see it. She will see the logic I laid out for her in short order.” 

Will groaned, “Did you call Cas a streetwalker?” 

“No. I did not insult her, I merely elaborated on the lasting impression of criminal behavior.” 

Jack squeezed shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, “That is what you said, Pellinore? That there was a lasting impression of criminal behavior?” 

“Yes, not only was Casimir a prostitute who surely contracted the physical diseases of her profession, but had congress with criminals of all sorts. You hunt them for a living, John, you must agree that it is not a taint easily removed. I am not sure why Annalee received the information with such emotion.” 

Jack held back his sneer with difficulty, “I am not sure, Pellinore, perhaps it was the taint of Anna’s criminal past that made her so riotous.”

“Anna’s criminal past?” His body reacted physically to the recollection, “Oh yes...I had...I did not consider…”

“That she murdered two people, took the eyes from a third and spent a year running hard drugs?” 

“How could she still fret over such things? It ended more than a decade ago.” 

Jack tensed, “Murdering one’s mother is not something one forgets.” 

Pellinore shifted uncomfortably, “She ought not to have left.” 

“You basically told her you didn’t want her here, Warthrop!” Will said, aggravation and distress in his voice. 

Warthrop fired up at once, “You mean to blame me entirely for this?”

Will straightened his shoulders, “Who else's fault would it be? Except Jack’s.”

Jack turned on him, “Why the hell is it my fault?” 

“You’re the one who ran a background check on Cas, and you didn’t exactly keep Warthrop in line while he was grilling her in the library. You thought that was a good way to welcome somebody? You thought you’d just insult and pick at the first person Anna’s brought home since Torrence when she was a teenager?” 

“What the hell does this have to do with Erik Torrence?” Pellinore asked viciously. 

“God, you’re such a goddamned idiot, Dr. Warthrop!” Will snarled, “You can’t be this stupid.” 

Warthrop bore down on him, but Will did not cower, “Will Henry, I will not be so insulted beneath my own roof. I can hardly be blamed that Anna is a delicate and hot headed vagabond!” 

“Dr. Warthrop,” Will said in a more reasoned tone, “She’s just...tender.” 

“She is the least tender person that I know.” 

Jack began up the stairs, “This discussion is getting us nowhere, I am going after her, since there is no doubt she will not answer her phone.” 

“How could you go after her, Jack?” Pellinore asked, “You have no idea where she has gone.” 

Jack sighed, “There is a single hotel in the next town over, she will stop there.” 

“How could you possibly-”

“I do this for a living, Pellinore.” 

“I will attempt to call her,” Pellinore said lamely.

“She won’t answer, but go ahead and amuse yourself,” Jack said, and he went upstairs. He collected his jacket and took off on his bike after Anna and Cas. 

“You are angry with me, Will Henry,” Pellinore said to Will.

“Yeah, I am. I’m going to bed.” He stalked away. 

Pellinore sat heavily on the stool in his basement. He stayed very still for twenty minutes, staring down at the cadaver on the table, worrying his lower lip. Then, with no warning, he rocketed to his feet and charged up the stairs. He stole Will’s keys and took his car without asking. He pulled out of the driveway and made haste across the little town, up a short country lane toward a single tree that stood in a little valley. She had hidden here when she got in such a bad fight in school she had been suspended, and when she had gotten dead last in her tenth grade science fair. She’d spent a whole night there once when she was seventeen. The Torrence boy had just broken up with her, well, been found out as unfaithful. She had gone down into his lab for some reason and broken his microscope. In retrospect he thought she had not done it on purpose. But he had been rather vicious with her. 

He stopped the car and got out while he was still too far away to be heard and walked the rest of the way. Already he could see her bike tipped over near that tree. 

It was easy to overhear them through the crisp winter air. He was rather distressed to find that what he heard was uncomfortably close to sobbing. 

“Ok, Anna, you bring me to this little tree, now you tell me why you are so unhappy,” Cas said. 

Anna’s voice broke as she talked, her speech interrupted by rattling breaths, “D’you know the opposite of indispensable, Cas?”

Understandably lost, Cas answered unsurely, “...dispensable?”

Anna laughed with no humor, “Pegged it, Cassy.” She kept talking, although Pellinore suspected it was more to herself than to Cas, “Will, Jack, shit, even fucking Muriel.” 

An uncomfortable knot twisted itself in Pellinore’s gut. That is how she had interpreted his small gap in vernacular? He had not even realized it was something he did not say to her in particular. He had never meant to imply that he could dispense with her. A niggling concern that her irraticism might stem from the deep roots that grew around an often strained relationship with a father. 

“Who is Muriel?” 

“Just this...never mind. Sorry if I ruined your Christmas, Cas.” 

“You did no such thing, come here, Anna. How could you ruin Christmas?” 

“I didn’t want you to get called names when I brought you home, or insulted or anything. I just wanted them to like you.” 

“Jack and Will I think liked me just fine...Did you and your papa Pellinore have a fight?” 

“No, not really. You don’t really fight with dad. I just...I think he’ll have a better Christmas if we take off.” 

Pellinore could not help but remember the last two Christmases when she had called at the last minute to tell him that she couldn’t make it back. Even he recognized he had been poor company on those occasions. 

“That is stupid nonsense, Anna” Cas said, “How could anyone have a better Christmas with you not there? Your papa is very fond of you, yes? He invited you to his big talk didn’t he?” 

Anna sniffed, “No, he asked me after why I didn’t come but he forgot to tell me about it. Told Will though, talked Will’s ear off.” 

Pellinore frowned, is that why she had not come? Why had she not said something? He had been more than disappointed that she had not been in attendance. It had been a crowning achievement in his career. He had felt more than slighted when his own blood had neglected to make an appearance, or even call. 

“I am sure this was a mistake, Anna, he is busy yes?” 

“I feel like a fucking teenager.” 

“No, no, no, papas are complicated, Anna. They always make you feel like a little person.”

Further discomfort slunk through Pellinore’s stomach. That was a feeling that he could empathize with. Paternal relationships, in his experience, were fraught with deeply imbedded wounds. But he was not his father, was he? He spoke to her, he knew about her life and her accomplishments. They had each other’s telephone numbers and spoke non infrequently. He shuddered to think that she might harbor the ill will toward him that he had harbored toward his own father.

“I wanted to do Biology in school, you know. He bought be this microscope when I turned eighteen and he was so sure that’d I’d do what he does.” 

“Why did you not?” 

Pellinore held his breath for this answer. He had felt rather cast aside when she had followed in the footsteps of one of her guardians but not his. He had always felt that she somewhat preferred Jack. From the very beginning when he could barely communicate with her Jack had had some sort of insider knowledge on her operations. He had not spoken of it to Jack, unwilling to sour the fondness between them, but he had always been a bit jealous that his own child was more closely bonded with another. The combination of a dead mother, Anna’s fraternal bond with someone who was not her brother and a paternal one with someone who was not her father struck too close to Pellinore. If life was to be mirrored in hers he did not want the part of Allistair Warthrop. 

“I didn’t get in. I applied to the Bio program and they turned me down. I don’t know Greek or Latin or anything, shit even Jack is a doctor. I used to get F’s on tests and he’d just look at me like I was this creature from another planet.”

“I think your papa Pellinore is so proud of you.” 

Anna scoffed. 

“Anna,” Pellinore said loudly. He could no longer resolve to lurk in the shadows and listen. 

She whipped around. Her nose and cheeks were red with the cold and her eyes were puffy. When she saw him she stiffened and didn’t say a word. 

“Anna,” he said again.

“How the hell did you know I was here?” She asked, “Did you GPS my phone again? Like when I was a kid?” 

“No,” He answered, “You come here whenever you are upset with me.” 

Her shoulders sunk, “Do I?” 

“Since you were thirteen. I usually let you come back on your own.” 

“I wasn’t going to come back.” 

“Hence my arrival.” 

“Why are you here?” 

Cas had taken a few steps back, allowing the father and daughter as much privacy as she could. 

“I spoke...foolishly in the basement. I did not mean to imply that you…”

“But you meant what you said?” she spat, “You just forgot who you were talking to.” 

“I did not know that you attempted to study Biology.” 

“You were eavesdropping?”

He shrugged, “You were shouting outside, it isn’t as though I was listening at keyholes.” 

“Yeah, and I fucked that up and like when that kid you said was stupider than a lower order ape ranked higher than me when I graduated!”

“I do not remember that.” 

“Course you don’t, you didn’t come to my graduation.” Even Pellinore could hear the wounds evident in her voice. 

“I was across the country...There was a lead…” He remembered with a vicious twist of discomfort that when he had completed college it had been von Helrung who had made an appearance and not the elder Warthrop. “I should have been there.” 

“Jack came.” 

The knot in Pellinore’s stomach tightened, “Yes...Jack has always been more...present.” 

“Look dad, just-”

Pellinore interrupted her, “Last year you apprehended a man who had killed his wife and both of his daughters. Two years before that you uprooted a French business woman who was using immigrants as slave labor. This autumn you found a German killer of seven.” 

“I never told you all that.” 

“I am sure you have done more, those were only the achievements that were publicised.” 

“...you...what?”

“They made the paper, I have them taped on the wall of the basement. Your work is...admirable.” 

Anna was softening, “I didn’t know you followed what I got up to.” 

“You never call, I have to.” 

“You never call either.” 

“Time...gets away from me.”

This seemed to be the wrong thing to say. She took a quarter of a step away from him, toward her motorcycle. Something inside Pellinore switched on. It was like during one of his cases, many years ago, Will Henry had nearly died. He had seen the boy slipping away and been driven into action. 

He swept forward and gripped her in an embrace, desperate to keep her in New Jerusalem for Christmas. “I have always been proud of you, Anna.” 

She melted against him and buried her face in his chest as she had done when she was a distressed teen. “If I call you on Wednesday evenings, will you answer?”

“Yeah,” she said, muffled into his coat. 

“Then I will call you. Every Wednesday. You do not have to answer if you are busy. I understand if you have become too devoted and forgotten. Unintentional cruelties are a burden I can bare. But I will call you. Will you come back for Christmas?” 

“Will you not be a dick to Cas?” 

He pressed his lips against the top of her head, “If it meant you being home for Christmas, you could bring home Walker without complaint from me.”

She scowled up at him, her half grin belaying the antipathy, “First of all, that isn’t true at all. Second, you just compared Cas to Walker which is the opposite of not being a dick. Third, if I ever bring home Walker as a date you should punch me.” 

He laid a hand on the side of her head, “Perhaps as a compromise, I can stop interrogating Miss Szczpanik and should you ever bring home Dr. Walker, I will punch him instead.” 

“Merry Christmas, Dad.” 

“Merry Christmas, Anna.”


	22. The Tiniest Assistant

**The Tiniest Assistant**

Will didn’t bother knocking, just let himself in the front door of Harrington Lane. He braced himself for a vitriolic tirade, but he made it all the way to the door of the library without so much as a peep from the doctor. 

Dr. Warthrop had put up more than a little fuss when Will had asked him to watch his two year old daughter for the weekend. He was shouted at that he was an esteemed doctor of monstrumology and not a nursemaid. He was told that thirteen year old girls were in no short supply and why could one of them not watch the devil spawn. But he had, finally, relented and agreed to care for Will’s tiny daughter. 

Will had returned promptly when he had promised, no later than six o’clock on Sunday night Warthrop had demanded, and it was only five fifteen. Still, Will had been expecting Warthrop to rocket to the front door, child held out in front of him to cast her back to her rightful father. He had also expected to be told, in no uncertain terms, that Warthrop would never deign to watch the girl again. 

Will stopped at the library door, small frown wrinkling his brow. He could hear Warthrop speaking inside but he had never, in all the many years he had known the man, heard such a tone come from his lips. It had taken a second to even realize it was really Dr. Warthrop speaking. It was gentle and cooing, one might even call it playful. 

“Yes, now the scalpel, little Henry, no no, not that one, it is the purple one, you have given me a forceps. What a foolish child you are, Will’s girl through and through. Oh yes, good girl, _that_ is a scalpel.” 

Will peaked through the door. Warthrop was sitting crosslegged on the floor, Will’s little daughter tucked snuggly in his lap. She wore pajamas that Will was not familiar with, little green footie pajamas. Sprawled out in front of them was a Fisher Price medical bag toy. Child sized plastic medical tools lined up neatly. 

In the girl's tiny fist she gripped a little purple scalpel. Under Warthrop’s praise she was giggling and banging the scalpel onto Warthrop’s knee. 

“No no, little assistant, you must show care with medical instruments, if this were not a child’s toy it would be very sharp. Now, little Henry, can you find the stethoscope? It is pink, look for the pink one. Can you find the pink one? Good girl!” 

Warthrop took the tiny pink stethoscope from the toddler’s little hands and carefully put the earpieces into her tiny ears, “Alright, tiny assistant, now you put this end here onto my chest like that, yes good girl! Listen close now!” 

The toddler let out a happy little shriek when she successfully heard the thumping of Warthrop’s heart.

“What a clever little assistant you are, tiny Henry, you will surpass your father in only a matter of years if you continue on this path. Would you like that, little Henry?” He asked, taking off the stethoscope, “you could be Dr. Grampa’s little helper, wouldn’t that be fulfilling for you?” 

The girl threw the stethoscope onto the pile of other instruments with a mirthful giggle. 

“Oh no, little Henry, we must pack these back up in the little plastic bag. Can you put them away? Like this. Yes, good girl, can you put away the scalpel, snap to, little Henry.” 

Will had never heard a more tender utterance of ‘snap to,’ in his life. He was torn between the desire to see his daughter after two entire days separated and to continue spying on the inexplicably sweet Dr. Warthrop, Dr. Grampa indeed. When he had called himself that Will had near to melted outside the library door.

“Do you require sustenance, little Henry? If you are like your father you are hungry all the time. Do you think we can hunt down some supper for you? Where do you think the best place would be to start our investigation? Do you think supper is in the bath?” 

“NO! No bath!” the little thing asserted. 

“How clever you are! Is supper in the garage?” 

Will saw the little girl begin to catch on and she shook her head vigorously and said, “Fridgerator!” 

“That is very poor diction, little Henry, try again; Re-fridge-er-ator”

“Fridgidor!”

“You are getting further away. But that is alright, you do not yet have full control of your fine motor skills and multisyllabic words are tricky.” He said all of this in a sweet little voice, standing and holding the girl to his shoulder, “Should we go to the kitchen?” 

“Yes!” the girl enthused. 

“Good girl, you are much more clever than your father. Now what do you want for supper? There are pureed carrots but that sounds horrific. Do you want Grampa Jack’s hot dish instead? He told me not to eat it but you will keep this secret for me won’t you, little Henry?”

He came out the door of the library and came face to face with Will. Immediately the sweet cooing stopped and Warthrop stood rigidly, staring at Will, “You have returned more promptly than I anticipated, Will Henry,” he said in his regular, crisp voice. 

“Dada!” The girl squealed and squirmed in Warthrop’s arms toward Will. 

Will beamed and took his daughter, seeing for the first time, the front of the fresh pajamas. They were a bright green with little white feet. But it was the screenprinting on the front that gave away their origin. In cute white letters was written, “Monstrumologist in Training.” 

Will raised his eyebrows and Warthrop’s cheeks went pink. Desperately Warthrop said, “....Jack purchased them. You know how sentimental he can be.” 

Will grinned, “Sure, sir. Thanks for watching her, I hope she wasn’t too much trouble.”

Warthrop’s lips turned down into a sour frown, “She ate sloppily and defecated herself and cannot sleep through the night without superfluous displays of affection.”

“Well thanks for watching her, I’ve got a line on a babysitter though, so I’m sure we won’t need you to take her again.” 

Warthrop crossed his arms, “That is fortuitous, Will Henry, as she was most inconvenient.” 

“Won’t ask you again, but I’d better get her home.” 

Warthrop allowed them to get all the way to the door before he said, “Jack however did not seem to mind caring for her. If the need arises… I am certain John would be willing to provide supervision.” 

“Do you want to say goodbye to Doctor Warthrop?” Will asked his little one. 

The girl reached out to Warthrop, who obligingly stepped closer. The girl tapped Warthrop’s cheeks with her chubby hands and said, “Bye bye doca gam!” 

“Hm, yes, farewell, child,” he said brusquely pulling back and clasping his hands behind his back, “And, Will Henry?”

“Yes, sir?” 

“I require your assistance rotating the tires on the Daytona next weekend. I supposed you can bring your progeny if you must.” 

“I’ll see you next weekend then, sir.” 

Smirking again at the little pajamas, Will took his leave, not missing that Warthrop came to the window to watch their departure.


	23. The Sentinel

She shouldn't be the one who was here. It ought to be Jack. If not Jack it should at least be Will. Not her. Not Anna. She and Pellinore had always had a _complicated_ relationship. Too much like each other and too much not. 

But Will was stuck in an airport in Florida and she hadn't been able to get in touch with Jack. He was always hard to contact when he was on a job, but for God's sake this was important. 

She wasn't even on her father's list of emergency contacts, too infrequently around, their relationship too often strained. It was Jack and Will who had made that list. She was just there when it happened. 

Pellinore Warthrop was not exactly old, but he wasn't young either and the basement steps were steep. Her stomach clenched to think of how close she had come to not stopping by. Harrington Lane had been an hour out of her way as she drove down to catch a flight back to London. She'd missed the flight but who cared now? 

He hadn't been conscious when she'd found him. She'd called 911 and followed them to the hospital. That was two days ago and he hadn't woken up. 

"We won't know until he wakes up what sort of damage the fall did to his brain." That's what the doctor had said. "There was swelling, it may impair cognition. It could be permanent. All we can do is wait."

So she was there, sitting on the uncomfortable hospital chair while her father had oxygen pumped through his nose. They had shaved a portion of his tempestuous hair to stitch up the crack the fall had left. She felt like she should be brushing the hair off his forehead or holding his hand. But they had never had a physically close relationship. She could count the number of times he had hugged her. 

It ought to be Jack holding this vigil. 

She got up when a nurse came in. She was here to clean him up with a wet cloth. It was far too intimate for Anna. She stepped out into the hall. Tried Jack again. Left another desperate message. 

The nurse emerged a few minutes later, "You know he might be able to hear, they can sometimes when they're out."

"Yeah?" She asked, "Thanks."

"Go ahead and tell him how much you love him, sweetheart."

Anna nodded but didn't reply. She didn't go back in right away, walked down the hall to move her legs some, they were cramping from sitting for so long. Shit. Jack should he here. 

She followed the hospital signs toward the lounge, hoping to find a soda or some coffee. She was afraid to sleep, afraid she’d be out in a chair when he’d wake up. That he would only have a couple of minutes conscious and she’d miss them. She passed an open doctor's office and swore. 

Nobody was in there. It was totally unguarded. The nurse had said that he might be able to hear. He might just be sitting there bored out of his mind. He’d be going nuts by now, if he was. If she knew him at all. She slipped inside and shoved her hands in her pockets looking up at the towering shelves of medical texts. She tilted her head to read the titles and grinned. She slid a heavy tome from the shelf and rearranged the other books to cover the hole. It wasn't like she wouldn't give it back. 

She tucked it under her jacket and returned to her father's bedside. 

"Alright, dad, bet you'll like this more than hand holding and confessions of undying filial affection. Listen to what I've got, _Rare and Newly Documented Parasites of North and South America._ Sounds right up your alley, yeah?" 

She started in on the dry medical text, giving him cursory apologies when she had to pause to work out the pronunciation of the medical terms. 

An hour or so into reading she ran into to something that made her take a half of a break, "' _The only records of the parasitic infection of acceptable medical quality were collected in 2007 by Dr. Pellinore Warthrop...'_ Hey, pop, listen to that, only record of acceptable medical quality, you're a Goddamn rockstar."

His hand clenched on his hospital blanket.

"You listening, dad?" She got up, putting the book down to stand over him, "gonna wake up a little?" 

His mouth opened and closed and he sort of growled. 

"Alright alright I'll keep reading, I hear you." She settled back with the book and kept reading. Better distraction for her than staring at him and if he could really hear her it would have undoubtedly been his choice of entertainment as well. When Chanler got here with von Helrung she'd go back home and shower and pick up the Society Journal she'd seen on the kitchen counter. 

Her phone started to ring and she leapt up to answer, stepping out of the room. 

"Oh thank Christ," she said seeing Jack's number come up on the screen. 

"What the hell is going on? Is Pellinore alright? You left thirteen messages."

"Get home, Jack, he isn't waking up. He fell down the basement stairs, cracked his head. Doctor says he might...might not wake up or might not be the...get here, Jack."

A pathetic noise came from the other end of the phone. "He might not... I'll be there by morning...that's as quickly as I can..." he swore and hung up. 

She texted Chanler for an e.t.a. and got back the gut wrenching reply of a sick kid and wife oversees. He'd be there if he could, he just took Victor to the ER. 

She phoned him, “Hey, Johnny,” she said, too jovially, “Victor alright?” 

“He’ll be fine,” John said, but his voice was strained, “But I had to take him in, I’m sorry, Annie, I’d be there if I could, you know I would.” 

“Nah, I know, Johnny, get your kid in order, let me know if there’s anything to worry about on your end, okay? Nothing new over here. I’ll text you if he changes.” 

“Thanks, kiddo, same on my end, talk later.” 

“Bye, John.” 

“Bye, Annie.” 

How was it her here alone? Pellinore would want Will here over her. But there was nothing for it. She resumed her vigil.

"Jack is on his way, dad," she said, reaching out to touch his hand but withdrawing before she did, "he's gonna be here by morning. You'd better wake up to tell him off for not answering his phone."

She picked up the book again and started out where she had left off. She read for about an hour before her stomach started gurgling. She hadn’t been home since she had come here. 

“ _We don’t know if he will wake up, but if he does it might not be for a very long time. You should be ready if he does wake up._ ” That is what the doctor had said. 

She couldn’t let him wake up alone. Someone would be here soon and she could go home, take a shower, change her clothes, eat something that wasn’t hospital food. Jack would be here, so if her dad only woke up for a few minutes it’d be Jack he’d get to see. 

She put down the book, her throat was dry from reading. She looked at her phone for texts. Will would be here by the next day. He’d given up on the airplane and rented a car. She breathed out a sigh of relief, “Hey, dad,” she said, “Will Henry is on his way, he’ll be here a little while after Jack. You won’t have to put up with me for very much longer. I’ll be right back, dad, but I’m going to call John Chanler again.” 

She stepped out and called Chanler, “Hey, Johnny, how’s Victor?” 

“Victor’s alright, they got his temperature down, we brought him home, Em will be home tomorrow, and I can come then, how is he Anna? Is he...is he going to be okay?” 

“Don’t know yet, John, he hasn’t woken up yet.” 

“How’s Jack?” 

“Not here, John, it’s just me. I just got ahold of Jack, he’s on his way but won’t be here til tomorrow.” 

“And Will?” 

“Not here either, coming up from Florida.” 

“I’ll be there soon as I can, kiddo,”

“Thanks, John.” She hung up and went back into the room, “John is coming too, dad. Whole crew will be here by tomorrow, you just have to hang in until then.” 

He didn’t do anything to respond, just sort of twitched, and batted at his IV. She settled in for the night. She didn’t sleep at all, just watched the vitals on her dad’s machine. Every couple of hours she resumed her reading just to keep herself awake. It was really more than she ever cared to know about rare parasites, but it was something to do. 

Her body hurt from sitting by morning and her eyes ached. “Morning, dad,” she said tiredly, you want me to keep reading or what? It’ll kill time till Jack gets here, bet you’re excited for that.” 

Pellinore lifted his hand and rubbed at his IV again, groaning. His lips moved a little and she paused for awhile to watch him.

“You got something to say, dad?” She asked, “Oh hey, just got word that Abram is retiring from president of the Society, guess who they are replacing him with? It’s Walker. Better get back on your feet and fight him for it.” 

She watched him for a response. He didn’t move a muscle. 

“Yeah, you’re too smart for something like that, but you know it’s gonna be you, right, so you have to be ready whenever he puts down the mantel. President Pellinore sounds pretty good.” 

He shifted his shoulders.

“Yeah, see I knew you’d like that.”

There was a thundering from outside the room and she got up, “I think Jack is here, dad, try to look a little more lively, yeah?” 

Jack did indeed charge into the room. He almost slammed into the side of Pellinore’s bed, his hands clinging to Pellinore’s face, “Pellinore,” he whispered, “Pellinore.”

Anna, embarrassed at the intimate nature of the exchange slid backward and averted her eyes. She shoved her hands into her pockets. 

“Oh, my darling Pellinore.” Jack lowered his head and pressed his lips against Pellinore’s desperately. In a horrible and weak voice he said, “Pell.” 

Pellinore lifted his hand and wrapped his fingers around Jack’s wrist. His lips moved a little, “....Jack,” he murmured. 

Anna’s heart thudded in her chest. Jack leaned his forehead against Pellinore’s “Pell? Pell are you awake? Pellinore?” 

Pellinore’s eyes eased open and he blinked slowly, “Jack.” 

Jack’s voice broke as he said, “Pellinore. Pellinore, you’re awake, oh god, you’re awake.” He kissed his forehead again, “Pellinore.” 

“Jack...my head....hurts…” 

“I know it does, my love, but you’re awake.” 

Anna blushed and leaned against the corner of the room. 

The door opened again and Will slipped in, coming closer behind Kearns than he had anticipated, “Sir? Dr. Kearns, is Dr. Warthrop awake?”

Jack didn’t look away from Pellinore, “Yes, Willy, he is. How do you feel, Pell?” His hand stroked Pellinore’s face. 

“I have just told you,” Pellinore said thickly, “My head hurts.” 

“You hit it pretty hard,” he kissed him again, “but you’re awake.” 

“Yes, John, of course I am awake,” he scowled against the pain and said, “I fell…” 

Will came forward and reached out, Warthrop beat him to it, taking Will’s hand, “Will Henry,”

“Hey, sir, you want me to get a nurse? We can get you something for the headache.” 

“I will not…” he faded for a moment then rallied, “I will not be given morphine. The pain is not too severe. Jack...Jack...you have not let me go.” 

Indeed, Jack had not, he was still nuzzling Pellinore, their foreheads pressed together, tears dripping down onto Pellinore’s face. “Pellinore. They didn’t think you’d wake up.” 

“I have, Jack...there is no need…”

Jack touched some of his hair around the shaved portion, “We shall have to trim your hair, Pellinore.” 

“Let me...John...I wish to speak to a doctor.” 

As though on command a doctor came in, Anna trailing behind her and slinking silently into a corner. Jack withdrew enough for Warthrop to talk to the doctor, but refused to release Pellinore’s hand. 

“Welcome back, Mr. Warthrop,” she said, smiling. 

“Dr. Warthrop,” he corrected her. He closed his eyes and furrowed his brow, then opened them, “Please inform me about my condition.” 

“Well, Dr. Warthrop,” she said, “You had some pretty severe head trauma, little swelling in your brain, we weren’t so sure you’d bounce back. Now, if your family wants to step out, we can take a peek at that head of yours, make sure you’re doing alright.” 

“Jack stays.” 

“I’m sorry sir, only spouses can-”

“Yes,” he said shortly, “Jack-” he stiffened and closed his eyes again, “Will Henry, can stay also, he...he is my assistant. It is...it is my health, I am the one...to decide who hears of it. Tell me now.” 

Anna slid back out the door so the doctor could do what she had to. She walked a little ways down the hall and then called John Chanler, “Hey John.”

“Anna! Is he alright? I am almost there, Abram is with me.” 

“Yeah, John, Jack got in and so did Will, John, he woke up, I think he’s going to be alright, the doctor is with him now, I’ll let you know if we find something else out.” 

He hooted and related the information to Abram, “Alright, kiddo, we’ll be there soon, glad Jack made it.” 

“Yeah, me too, Johnny, see you soon.” 

She lurked outside until the doctor came out, clipboard tucked into the crook of her arm. 

“Hey,” she said, “Is he doing alright? With the swelling?”

“Oh yes,” she said with a smile, “The anti-swelling IV we have him on has gotten it all taken care of, I think your dad will be alright. He’s lucky you got him here so quick.” 

“Alright, thanks,” she said, looking down. 

She let Will and Jack sit with Pellinore for awhile and went downstairs to meet up with John and Abram as they came in. She swore when she got outside and leaned against the brick facade of the building. 

Cas had stolen her jacket for awhile before she’d left London for her latest job and she’d left a couple of cigarettes behind in the pocket. Cas didn’t smoke much, but she kept cigarettes around. Said they reminded her of her mom. 

Anna lit one and smoked it while she waited for John and Abram. It was raining a little bit outside and it felt nice after she’d been inside for so long. She was on her second by the time John’s big Mercedes parked and he got out, hurrying around the the passenger seat to help Abram out, drawing his walker from the far back and snapping it open. 

They made their slow approach and John beamed at her, then scowled, “Jack’ll kill you if sees you smoking, kiddo,” he said. 

Anna laughed and dropped her cigarette, grinding it out under her boot, “Glad you two made it, he’s on level three, room P4, Jack and Will are up there now.” 

“We’ll head up there, you coming?” 

“Nah,” she said, “I’m going to go take a shower, get a bite to eat.” 

“How long you been here?” 

“Couple days.” 

“I can tell,” he said, winking, “You smell like a Warthrop.” 

“If they ask, you can tell Will and them that I’ll be right back.” 

“See you, kid.” 

“See you, John.”

She found her bike, swore at the three tickets on it and kicked it into life, cruising the short distance back to Harrington Lane. She parked her bike and went inside, she could barely stay on her feet, three days with only cat naps on hospital chairs had worn her thin. She scraped her feet upstairs and stripped out of her filthy clothes. She showered and bolted some food then collapsed on top of her childhood bed for a few hours of sleep. 

She woke up in the evening and pulled on fresh clothes to get back to the hospital. 

It was around seven when she got back there, parked, and went upstairs to the room. 

John Chanler could be heard from all the way down the hall, followed by Abram’s laugh. She slipped inside. 

Pellinore was sitting up now, alert. Jack had moved him over six inches or so and sat next to him. He just looked at him, little grin unmoving from his lips. John was spread out on a chair near the foot of Pellinore’s bed, big grin on his face. Abram was beside him, wrinkled hand on Pellinore’s ankle atop the hospital blanket. Will sat beside his bedside, quite but smiling. 

Pellinore looked over at Anna as she came in, “Thank you, for finally joining us.” 

“Sorry, dad,” she said with a little grin, “Glad you’re okay.” 

He glared, although it had a little less vigour in it with a chunk missing from his hair, “It was of questionable outcome for some time, I am told, nice of you to make an appearance.” 

She sat down in a chair in the corner, “Heard that the doc said you might not be yourself when you woke up, glad to see that isn’t true.” 

Pellinore, uncharacteristically emotive turned his head slowly and looked at Jack, “How could I not wake when you came, John,” he said softly, touching their foreheads together. Although I was unconscious for two entire days, if my charts have been accurately compiled, had you only just arrived when I woke? Can you not answer a telephone even when something dire happens, Jack?” 

Softly, Jack said, “Shut up, Pellinore.” 

Will looked up at Anna, “The doctor said he can go home tomorrow, they want to observe him overnight, make sure the swelling doesn’t come back.” 

Anna grinned at him and settled into her corner. John Chanler entertained them well into the night, only leaving when Abram could no longer stay awake. They’d spend the night at Harrington Lane and be back in the morning. At about eleven Will got up, Anna with him.

“Are you staying here for the night, Jack?” Will asked. 

“Mmm,” Jack answered, “Yes.” 

“We’ll see you in the morning,” he said, “I’m glad you’re alright, sir.” 

“Thank you, Will Henry, I am sure that you are.” 

“Oh,” Anna said, “I brought you something, dad, here.” she pulled the newest Society journal from the inside pocket of her coat and handed it over, “Thought you might get bored.” 

He took it and laid it on the rolling table beside him, “Yes, thank you. Goodnight.” 

Anna followed after Will, back to Harrington Lane.


	24. The Proposals

“You alright, Warthrop, still awake?” 

“Yeah, Carlin,” Anna said brusquely, “Just a stakeout.” 

“Shit, how long’s it been?” The gruff American replied.

“Fourteen hours, not so bad.” 

“For shit’s sake.” 

A long stretch of silence returned to the car where they were both tucked into in Berlin, waiting for their mark to leave his house. 

“So, Warthrop, you got a husband back home waiting for you?” 

“No,” Anna said, “Girlfriend.” 

He whistled, “She pretty.” 

Anna smirked, “You have no fucking clue.” 

“I got a girl too,” he said, flipping open his wallet and showing her a picture of a cute woman with short blonde hair. 

“She’s cute.” 

“Yeah,” he said fondly, “I’m gonna marry her.” 

“Congrats, Carlin,” she said, “When?”

“Well…” he hedged, “Gotta ask her first, picked out a ring though, and I called her dad.” 

“You fucking traditionalist.”

He shrugged, “She’s a Catholic.” 

“Yeah? What are you?”

“I’m a love struck sucker.” 

Anna snorted, “Didn’t know you were such a fucking softie. You excited to tie the knot?” 

“Yeah, Warthrop, sure am. Holy shit, getting that girl for ever? You never think about locking down your girl?” 

“Never really thought about it. Shit!” She threw up her hands as glass sprayed inside the car, noise erupting as a bullet slammed through the window. 

Anna opened the door and rolled out, coming up with the car between her and the house, pistol drawn. Their mark had made them, he hung out of his door, rifle waving. 

She compressed the trigger, one. two. three. Blood erupted from the mark’s shoulder and he dropped. She knew already that he was dead.

“Carlin!” she said, holding her gun at the house in case backup came for him, “You alright?” 

No answer was forthcoming. 

“Carlin?” 

She chanced a glance inside and saw him, neck ripped apart by a bullet, blood streaming down his neck, “Shit, shit!” she said, “Shit, Car!” 

There wasn’t a damn thing to be done. He was gone, gone before the glass had finished falling. 

_________________________________

Berlin was a two day drive from London. She needed to be in London. It’s not like Carlin was the first person she’d seen die. But shit. She couldn’t forget his grin. 

_’I’m gonna marry her.’_

Uncontrollable, her heart slammed against her ribs. Cas. It wasn’t grief that drove her, it was just need. How had she never thought of it? Her Cas being really hers, forever. She got a blood rush to her head. Her father would tell her to stop and think and consider. But she had never really been one for that. It _felt_ right. Like it was what she was supposed to do. Her Cas. Unrelenting energy filled up her skin. It rose like an emergency and she leapt to her feet, throwing her things into her bag and tossing more than enough cash onto the table. 

She did not stop, to to sleep or eat at least. Only to fuel her bike and keep her moving toward Cas. 

When she was getting into London it started to rain, a downpour that slicked the roads and pasted her hair to the sides of her face. 

A few streets away, in the flat where they had lived together for the last three years, Cas was curled up in a little armchair, delicate fingers wrapped around a steaming mug of tea, smiling at Lights who lounged on the couch opposite. 

“So, Cassy,” Lights said, “You gotta figure out how you’re gonna ask her, you know? It’s gotta be good, I’ll help. You gonna call ‘er dads and ask em permission?” 

Cas tossed her head back and laughed, “I think Anna would be not happy if I asked her papa Pellinore for permission for her to do anything!” 

“That’s probly true,” Lights laughed and drank from her glass of wine, “So you gonna make a big show of it or what? I got this guy I been dating who runs lights and whatever at a stage, he can help out.”

“Is this what you think, Lights?” Cas asked, “That I should make big show? Anna would blush so bright!” 

“Ok, well I got this other guy I’ve been dating he can help too, runs this hotel chain, you know, I can get you a good deal on a real skanky room. That’d be hot, doncha think?” Then she interrupted herself, “Shit, you gonna go off an’ become an old married broad. All boring or whatever. Even more boring than now, when you sit and watch baseball with her! Where is that girl who used to shut down clubs with me? You remember when you went home with that Austrian princess?” 

Cas laughed, “What happened? I met my Anna, you think she is good, yes?” 

Lights swore, “Shit yeah, she’s great, love Anna, you two are so -holy shit here she is.”

“What?” Cas yelled and jumped to her feet. 

They could see out the window, Anna drive up, soaked to the skin. She leapt off the bike, not pausing even to put down the kickstand and sprinted toward the building. 

“Oh my god _kochanek_ ,” Cas said, her hands coming up to her mouth. She also ran toward Anna, out the door of the flat and down the stairs. Halfway, awkwardly on the landing they ran into each other, Cas seizing Anna’s sodden frame and pressing her against the hallway wall, her lips crushed against hers. 

Anna kissed her desperately, breaking away a fraction of an inch, her hair dripping into her face she stammered, out of breath, “Cas, Cas.”

“Anna, you said you would be home not until two weeks!” 

“Cas, will you, Cas-”

Anna kissed her again, lovedrunk. Then she looked up into Cas’ shimmering eyes, dark and warmly brown. It was only then, only when she stood, dripping into Cas’ arms on the entire nearly two day long journey home that she felt the quake of uncertainty. How could she possibly accept? Casimir who turned paint into a living beauty with only her hands. Casimir whose parted lips and hooded eyes could begin and could finish wars. The young streetwalker made of only skin and blood that tried to draw her out of danger. 

She quivered in Cas’ arms, struck mute. The question she had come across three countries to ask dying on her lips. 

Cas lifted her hand and brushed Anna’s wet hair from her forehead, “Anna?” She knew what Anna had been about to ask. Had she changed her mind? 

Anna watched the shift of Casimir’s eyes, the darkening. Cas pulled back and her neck tensed. Her hopefully shimmering eyes and clouded to uncertainty and despair. 

“Cas,” Anna said, she dropped her hands from Cas’ hair, letting her step back. She crossed her arms and looked at the floor. 

It was then that Anna knew with an absolute certainty that she needed to ask her. Needed at least to hear her tell her no, needed to tell Cas that she wanted to keep her eyes hopeful and shimmering until her last breath. 

“Cas,” she said again. 

“Anna.” 

“I’ve lived a lot of places. I didn’t stay anywhere more than a year till I was thirteen. Then I took off when I was eighteen and didn’t go back for more than a month at a time. I got a job where I don’t ever stay in the same place or with the same people.” 

“What is it you tell me, Anna?” Cas said, hurt crawling into her voice, “Is this how you tell me you have been here for too long?” 

“Cas,” she said, reaching out, “You’re the Prime Meridian.” 

“What?” 

“I mean if I mapped out the world you’d be in the middle of it, right at the start.” 

Cas shuddered and came back forward, her hands clasping Anna’s.

“I can’t give you up, Cas,” Anna whispered. 

“I am not wanting you to.” 

“Casimir,” she said, “When I think about coming home I think about you. I want to hang onto you till I bite it. Cas will you-”

Cas cut her off, her eyes blazing with light, “Marry me, bounty hunter.” 

Anna kissed her, her hands on either side of Cas’ face, fingers in her thick hair, she made a whining noise against Cas, mutely nodding. 

Cas’ voice had become as breathless as Anna’s, “Anna? You are sure, yes? Sure of me, forever?” 

Anna buried herself against Cas’ chest, her face in her hair and neck, “Cas, yeah, more sure than anything. Cas, it’s been you since I met you. Shit, are you sure?”

Cas tapped Anna’s face with her open palm, a tender facsimile of a slap, “You stupid woman, yes. You think I sit and I wait for you while you go an be a hero to throw you away for something else? There is nobody else. Anna, I want you each day, every day until I turn back into mud. Just you.” She tipped her forehead against Anna’s. 

Anna stared at her and broke. Her shoulders shook, her torso convulsed and she pulled herself down, clinging to the human before her who was cloaked in the skin of an ethereal goddess and who wanted only her. Tears came hot down her cheek, slicked on Cas’ neck as she cocooned herself, her fingers stiff in the silky fabric of Cas’ shirt. 

If Cas could have picked her up and carried her inside she would have, but she had only a single inch on Anna and was by far the smaller of musculature. 

“Come upstairs with me, Anna, let us go inside.” 

Mutely Anna followed her, not releasing her, eyes fixed so fully upon her it was without question that Anna would have followed her to the bowels of the worst hell. 

Lights, who was also tear streaked, stood at the top of the stairs, “You fucking bitches,” she said, sobbing, “Why you gotta be so goddamn sweet. Ain’t nobody ever said shit like that to me. Prime Meridian, shit,” She fanned her face, “I’ll see you round, drop in on you with some champagne tomorrow.” 

Anna was deaf to this, capable only of following Cas inside. She wanted her. Cas wanted her. Blood blazed in her head. 

They stared at each other for a very long minute. When they moved, it was at the same time a cleaving together. Anna kissed Cas desperately, hands in her hair, breathing every iteration of her smell, different in her hair and on her neck and upon her collarbone. 

Cas shivered under her touch, she peeled off Anna’s soaking jacket, Anna herself slipping Cas’ blouse over her head and tossing it onto the floor. Cas had some trouble divesting Anna of her sodden jeans and t-shirt, but after some struggling the two of them stood, smiling in their underwear. 

“Jesus, it’s cold,” Anna said, goosebumps rising all over her flesh. A grin on her face.

“Well then do not run around in the rain, silly.” 

“Come here and warm me up.” 

Cas made a display of understanding, “Oh, is it _that_ that you wanted? Anna, my fiancee?” 

Anna just looked at her, “God, you’re a fucking beauty.” 

Cas flipped her hair over her shoulder and rolled her shoulders seductively, “You tell me what you like the most, yes?” 

Anna’s stunned eyes roved over her, she lifted Cas’ hands and kissed them on the open palm, “Your hands, Cas, and how you look in the sun in the morning.” 

Cas scoffed, “I am horrid in the morning.” 

“Your breath is so bad,” Anna said fondly.

Cas tsked, “You kiss me anyway.” 

“I’ll always kiss you anyway.” 

Anna pulled Cas by the hand to their bed. She unhooked Cas’ bra and slipped her out of her underpants, Cas deftly doing the same for her. 

They lay facing each other. Anna’s fingers traced the indents Cas’ underwear had left at her hip and side, a smile tugged at her lips, “God, Cas, I love you so much.” 

“You are mine now, Anna, I get to have your forever.” 

Anna closed her eyes against more emotion then said playfully, “At least till I get gunned down on the job.” 

Cas hit her lightly, “Do not say this! Just come here. I just want to feel you.” Cas pulled Anna snuggly against her, “Tell me I am your Prime Meridian once more, yes?” 

Anna nuzzled her, “You’re my Prime Meridian, Cas. Now and forever.”


	25. The Fight of Jacob Torrance's Life

**The Fight of Jacob Torrance’s Life**

Jacob Torrance slammed his fist against the apartment door in three fierce strikes. When there was no reply he did it again even harder. 

“Jesus, I’m coming!” The woman’s voice through the door shouted, he could barely hear it through both the door and the ambient noise of apartment, which, at the moment, was a squalling baby. 

She wrenched open the door. Torrance had expected her to have put on some weight since he had last seen her, since she’d just had a kid, but she was as thin as ever. Her roots had grown out some, it was the first time Torrance had even noticed she died her hair, but otherwise, she was unchanged. 

“What’dyou want?” She sneered. 

“The hell do you think, Candy?” He said a little irritably, “Mooks came to my door telling me to pay child support n’ you don’t fucking call?” 

She shrugged, “It’s the fucking law, Jake, just send your goddamn check.” 

“You had a kid,” he said, “ _My_ kid and you don’t call me?” 

“Why you want a fucking kid, Jake?” She laughed, “Fuck off.” 

“I want to see it.” 

“Him, you shitbrain, its a him.”

“Alright, I wanna see him.” 

“Screw off, Jake,” She said, shoving his broad chest with her long fingernails, “We aren’t married, you don’t get to see him.” 

“Shit, Cand, come on, he’s my kid. He’s my son. I want to help.” 

“You can help by sending your goddamn child support check.” 

This should have been the best of a worst scenario. The girl he knocked up didn’t even want him to deal with the kid, just send a check through. That ought to be perfect. But a gurgling knock bunched up in Torrance’s gut. His kid. 

“Look, Cand, I’ll send the check, course I will, but I can...let me help. Can I at least take a look at him?” He said over the sound of his son screaming from the other room. 

“Why, Jake? What good would you do him?” 

“Kid needs a dad, Candy.” 

She laughed without humor, “Yeah, Jake, but we’re talking about _you_. You think Erik will be better off if he gets a good look at you before you run off to God knows where all the time? Yeah? You gonna call and say you’ll be home for his birthday then get stuck in Goddamn Antigua?” 

“S’that his name?” Torrance asked, distracted, “Erik?” 

“Yeah, it’s his fucking name, now get the fuck out of here, Jake, I don’t need you.” 

Torrance lost his temper, finally, and bellowed, “He is my goddamn kid and I’m going to goddamn see him.” 

She squared her shoulders and leaned up at him, “Yeah, Jake? You think so? How you gonna get in there, huh? Cuz I ain’t moving. You gonna shove me aside like the goddamn piece of shit you are?” 

He did want to hit her, but not for the reasons she was giving. He smelled it on her when she leaned close. 

“You been drinking, Cand?” 

She stepped back with a barking laugh, “Can you hear that fucking brat, Jake? Of course I’ve been fucking drinking.” 

Real anger, old and hot and livid, burst up in Torrance’s gut. He wanted to shove her out a goddamn window and take his kid. He hadn’t known till just now that he still remembered what his old man’s breath, hot and drunk, smelled like. He almost did too, he’d always been a man of action. But at the last possible second he took a step back. 

He gritted his teeth, and said in a level tone, “So, if you think you get child support, then you agree I’m his dad, right?” He had to close his eyes, he couldn’t look at her.

“Yeah, Jake, there’s papers you gotta sign, should be with the stuff you got sent.” 

“But you signed them already?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Then you’ll be hearing from my goddamn lawyer cuz that kid is coming with me.” 

She slammed the door, muffling the sounds of Erik, who was still crying. 

Torrance swore, kicked over a fake plant she had sitting outside her apartment door and pounded down the hall. 

When he got home he flipped through the yellowpages until he found the number for somebody that called himself a ‘Family Lawyer,’ which sounded right and dialed the number. 

“Hello, Kennedy Sullivan’s office of Family Law, this is Karen speaking, how may I help you?” 

“Hey, Karen,” Torrance said, balancing the phone on his shoulder and paging through the packet of papers he had been served, “I’m calling to talk to Sullivan about uh… having a meeting I guess.” 

“Of course, may I get your name, sir?” 

“Jacob Torrance.” 

“Well, Mr. Torrance, Ms. Sullivan would like to speak to you regarding your situation before you schedule a meeting, will you hold for just a moment?” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

A moment of irritating music later a sharp voiced woman answered, “This is Kennedy Sullivan and I speaking to Jacob Torrance?”

“Uh, yeah.” 

“Excellent, thank you for calling Mr. Torrance. Why have you contacted me?” 

“Alright, so…” it felt weird saying it all out loud, he’d only found out about it this morning, and had only just gotten home from Candy’s apartment. “Alright, so I got this paperwork about child support, which is the first I heard about having a kid.” 

“Paternity testing would be required to refute child support claims. Have you claimed paternity?” 

“No, shit, oh, sorry. No. I mean, that isn’t what I’m after. There’s paternity paperwork here, she signed it, I haven’t but I mean, I think it’s mine, the timing works out anyway. But I went over there to see him, the kid, and she wouldn’t let me. I got some kinda right, don’t I?” 

“Of course you do, Mr. Torrance, now, are you and the child’s mother married?”

“No.”

“Have you ever been married?”

“No.” 

“If the both of you sign the paternity documentation then there will be no reason I should not be able to secure you visitation rights, perhaps even joint custody.” 

Torrance bit back swearing again, “No, I gotta do better than that, she was drunk when I went over there and the kid was screaming the whole time.” 

“That is a different matter entirely, Mr. Torrance, it will require taking her to court, is that something you are prepared to do?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Let me make you an appointment to come and see me directly, Mr. Torrance.”

Ten minutes later, appointment time and the address of her office scrawled out on scrap of paper, Torrance hung up the phone and made his second phone call, one that he was much less enthusiastic for. 

“Hello!” a chummy voice answered, “This is Dr. Warthrop’s house.” 

Torrance breathed out a sigh of relief, “Hey, James, it’s Jake.” 

“Hey, Torrance, you want to talk to Dr. Warthrop? I assume this is about the trip to Canada.” 

“No, no, Henry, look, tell Warthrop I can’t make it, something came up.” 

“Dr. Warthrop won’t be happy to hear that, he was counting on your help. Here, you ought to talk to him directly.” 

“Shit, no, James- goddammit.” 

“Torrance,” said Warthrop’s much less hearty voice. 

“Can’t make it to Canada, Warthrop,” he said readying himself for the onslaught. 

“I am sure that you are attempting some ill advised jest,” Warthrop said sounding like he was speaking through gritted teeth. 

“Nope, can’t make it. Something came up.”

“Something came up?” Warthrop said, emphasizing each word distinctly, “What could possibly be or more importance than this expedition?” 

“I have something I gotta take care of, call somebody else. Call that irritating bounty hunter, I don’t give a shit.” 

“Torrance,” Warthrop thundered, “It is high time you claimed some measure of responsibility-”

Torrance hung up the phone. 

___________________________________________

Two weeks later Torrance stood next to Kennedy Sullivan outside the courthouse, stuffy in the new suit he had bought for the occasion. 

“Now, Mr. Torrance, I don’t want you to get your hopes up,” She said, not looking at him. She was busy flipping through documents that she had tucked into the crook of her elbow. She was a severe woman, in a grey power suit and sensible heels. “There is no proof of negligence, I have to tell you that joint custody is going to probably be the best that we can do at this point.” 

“Yeah, you’ve said that before,” Torrance grumbled. He got it, he understood that his say so that Candy was drunk off her ass around his kid wasn’t enough to get Erik taken away from her. But how the hell was he supposed to let her take care of him? He hadn’t slept right since he found out about the kid. He kept having the bad dreams he’d had as a kid, about his drunk old man kicking the shit out of his mom. He’d be better than that. His kid wasn’t going to have to know what it felt like to shoot one of his parents with a shotgun. 

He couldn’t even help sleep along a little with some whiskey. Sullivan had warned him about random drug tests if Candy lawyered up and they fought back. He’d been sober as a nun since he’d had his first appointment with Sullivan. 

Sullivan told him it was time to go in and he followed her into the courtroom. Candy was already there, looking clean and put together. She’d fixed up her hair, looking truly blonde now, her fingernails shone perfectly and her skirt suit was charming and well pressed. Torrance wished you couldn’t see the tattoo that poked up his neck under his collar. 

Candy was, when she wasn’t drunk and yelling over a baby, polite and well spoken. And she was better prepared than he was. She had character witnesses and testimonials of Jacob disappearing for months at a time without a trace. She had a lawyer who hadn’t missed Torrance’s three arrests, two for breaking an entering, one for assault. They had been in the course of his job, and they’d all been dropped, but it didn’t exactly paint him as dad of the year.

The whole thing didn’t take very long. 

“Jacob Torrance, you will be issued weekly visitation in your place of residence. Candace Perry will retain primary custody.” 

He’d known it was coming, but his gut clenched up and his throat constricted. This was the first time he’d felt like crying in public since he was fifteen and his girlfriend had dumped him at a football game. He gritted his teeth together and nodded. He’d get to see his kid, at least. 

He didn’t wait for Sullivan, he stormed out of the courtroom, out of the building and up the street. He shut himself in his car and slammed the door. He sat still in his seat for a couple of seconds then rammed his hand onto the steering wheel. 

“Fuck!” he shouted. His voice sounded weak and hoarse. He gritted his teeth and growled but tears leaked down his cheeks anyway. “Shit.” The one goddamn important thing he’d ever tried to do and he’d fucked it up. He _knew_ she was a shitty mom. He knew it. He’d seen her let the kid wail. And he’d known her before her kid of course. Took coke at parties, drove home when she shouldn’t. 

The unwelcome and terrible thought of his kid, who he still had never seen, strapped into a car seat while she drove drunk off her ass to pick up cigarettes. He thought he was going to puke. Fuck. How could he care this much about some kid he hadn’t ever even seen? But he thought about him all the damn time. 

Sure there’d be things to work out. Couldn’t exactly go on two month long hunting trips with a kid at home and nobody else to look after him, but shit, he’d get some boring office job if he had to. He still felt unsure on his feet. Everything had been eclipsed so fast. He was Erik’s dad. He was supposed to protect him, even if it meant protecting him from his mom. 

Jacob clenched his eyes shut against the onslaught of memories of his dad’s boot in his ribs, his rancid breath in his face. The shouting over broken dishes and his mother’s choked crying. Those memories were all mixed up with a baby screaming over his drunken mother’s shouting. 

He revved his car and careened back home. He went inside and swore. Fine. Fine. Fine. He’d get another shot. Sullivan had said if something changed then he could try again. If she got a new boyfriend or got arrested or if the kid didn’t check out when she brought him in for doctor check ups. He’d get another shot and he wouldn’t fuck it up again. 

He swore again and went to the kitchen. He dug out a spiral bound notebook and a shoved a pen in his pocket and went upstairs to change out of his suit. Back in a v-neck and jeans he got back into his car and drove to the library. 

“Hey,” he said to the slip of a girl behind the counter, “You got books about kids?” 

She looked up with a small jump, “You mean, like, children’s books?”

“No, like about kids, like how to take care of them.” 

“Oh, parenting books, sure.” She wrote out a string of numbers, “Parenting books are going to be over in the nonfiction section, in the 649’s, do you want me to show you?” Her eyes flickered over the tattoos up his arms. 

“Nah, I can hunt it down alright, thanks.” he tapped the desk with his knuckles, took her slip of paper and headed off in search of them. There were so goddamn many. Books that said they were scientific and had three sources in the back, books that were written by celebrities for some reason, books that talked about how the only way to raise a kid was with the iron fist of the lord. 

He finally settled on six of them, mostly about getting a house ready for kids. It’s not like he needed to know how to discipline an infant. 

He went back to the counter and set them down, “I don’t have a card, or anything.” 

“That’s alright!” said the perky girl he’d talked to before, “If you have a driver’s license with your current address we can make one for you!” 

Ten minutes later, he had a library card for the first time since college and a stack of books about being a dad under his arm. He dropped them onto the passenger seat and went back home. 

After looking longingly at the beer in his fridge, he made himself coffee and set to work through the books, pen in his hand and spiral bound notebook open next to him. He made himself lists as he read: Stuff to Buy. Stuff to Throw Out. Stuff to Fix. 

At three in the morning he was still at his kitchen table, surrounded by books flagged with post its and carefully counting out days on his calendar. He flipped through the court documents and got Erik’s birthday and marked that, then counted out and marked when he should be going to the doctor. Well Baby Check Ups they were called. He noted when he should get each of his vaccines and about how much Erik should weigh at each check in. 

He compiled a list of his own goddamn character witnesses. Abram von Helrung would probably do it, John Chanler would be a good one, especially with a name like Chanler. Thank god he had done in his old man when he was seventeen so those records were sealed. And he hadn’t ever told her about it. 

He put his work down for the night and collapsed into his bed. He had more to get done the next day. 

As soon as he was showered and dressed the next day, he set off. He had a monumental list of stuff to buy. He got to take his kid home on weekends. He had to have a home that was ready for a kid. He drove down to a store he never thought he’d be in and dug his list out of his pocket. He needed a whole mess of safety gadgets, a crib, some kind of toys, a high chair, a car seat, probably more. 

He pushed his cart around the store, hijacking the attention of employees at every turn to get them to tell him the differences between different products. Later he’d need to pick up a locking gun safe rather than do what he did now and sort of lean them up in the living room. He’d need to stop by the hardware store and get paint and curtains to do up the kid’s new room. 

It was late by the time he got home and later still by the time he got all of his purchases into the house. But he was filled with energy. The fact that Erik was sitting in an apartment with that goddamn woman was not something he could do anything about right now. If he went over there when he wasn’t supposed to it would just make it harder to get the kid later. He had to do this smart. But if he didn’t keep himself busy he’d have ended up over there anyway. 

He dragged the paint upstairs and started hauling stuff out of the second bedroom. Right now he was using it for his work, he didn’t do as much of the lab stuff as somebody like Warthrop but he did his share of research and scientific inquiry. Even if he liked the hunt much better. But the kid needed a room more than disorganized books and old newspapers did. So he began the cleaning. Stuff he needed to find a place for in one pile, stuff to throw away in another. He’d need to go back to the store and get a couple of real bookshelves. Sullivan had said that stuff would be good anyway. That Candy might have a social worker come over to prove he wasn’t a fit father. Candy had seen his house, she’d be wasting no time. 

He worked through the night, cleaning up the room and hauling out bags and bags of old research he didn’t need anymore. By dawn, the room was bare, there was a pile of books in what he had been using as a poker room for him and his buddies, but would now be a study. It had a locking door which worked out his favor. He carried his desk precariously down there too and boxed up the more gruesome of his work pictures. 

He swore. The carpet was disgusting. He hadn’t ever really noticed. But a social worker would notice. The rest of the house was alright, it’s not like he lived in filth, but he worked up here when he had to do stuff at home and his work wasn’t always exactly clean. He sniffed at a weird stain and coughed, smelling the residue of formaldehyde.

“Alright, new carpet, I can put in new carpet.” He’d done some home carpentry to make ends meet in college, he was alright at it. He hadn’t slept but couldn’t fathom it. Some state worker might be on their way at any minute to vet his house and dammit if he was gonna get caught with a carpet that smelled like dead people. 

He went into the basement and found his toolbox then returned upstairs. He cut away the carpet and pulled it up, padding and all. Luckily the floor underneath was undamaged. He dragged the roll of carpeting out to the dumpster and propped the room’s window open with a fan before he took a break to shower and eat something. 

He went back to the Home Depot and got new carpet, happily finding kid’s carpet with dinosaurs on it. Kids liked dinosaurs, right? Course they did. 

He spent that whole day working on the room. He painted it first and while each coat was drying he went around his house installing the baby safety things. Locking up the cabinet under the sink and putting a weird strap on the fridge, battening down the toilet seat. All that. There were even little straps for over doors so they wouldn’t small tiny fingers. He screwed in a safety gate at the top of the stairs and put a sliding lock on the basement door, high out of a kid’s reach. He heaved the gun safe into his new office and locked up all his weaponry. 

When the paint, had dried he put in the carpet, which took the rest of the day. But damn did it look good. The girl at the hardware store had talked him into green walls, which he liked with the dinosaur carpet. She’d also told him to make the one wall with the window a couple shades darker. Called it an accent wall. He should call her manager and give her a good word. This was a cute fucking room. 

He did sleep then, not long, a couple of hours to keep him on his feet and another pot of coffee. He still had a pile of stuff he had to deal with. 

When he got started the next day he dragged the box with the crib upstairs and set to work putting it together. He’d read not to put it under the window, so he put it against the wall that Erik would share with his own room. That was all the actual furniture he’d bought. Now that it was up, it seemed bare. He unpacked the rest of the boxes to see if it would help. He hung the mobile over the crib and put up the curtains. He set up the high chair in the kitchen, which he needed to clean, and installed the carseat in the backseat of his pickup. 

With all that done he took a third trip for errands. Baby food, formula, pacifiers, toys, bottles, diapers, tiny baby clothes, little blankets, a baby monitor, a play pen, this weird bouncy seat to hang in a doorway. He thought if he had to work, he could do it at the kitchen table and Erik could hang out in the kitchen doorway in the little bouncy thing. 

Then he stopped by a furniture store and got stuff to fill out the rest of the room. A wide, low dresser that he could use as a changing table and a little nightstand. He picked up a toy box too and some book shelves. He hadn’t put this much work into his house since he’d moved in. 

He put the stuff up as soon as he got home, scooting the dresser and nightstand into the room and spending more than an hour putting away baby clothes and toys and hooking up the little nightlight. He had found one in the shape of a stegosaurus. This was one cute goddamn room. 

All in all it took until the weekend to get the whole house in order and by that time it was unrecognizable. The kitchen was cleaner than it had ever been, his office made him look like a real goddamn scientist, the living room was all set up for a kid. He’d thrown out all his skin magazines and adult movies and even put in a tiny shelf of cardboard baby books. He mowed the lawn, trimmed around the edges, fixed the front step, put a new doorknob on the front door so it didn’t stick. Shit, it looked like a dad lived here. 

He had expected to have to go and get Erik on Saturday, but Candy came at seven a.m. far earlier than he was usually up. But he hadn’t been able to sleep. So he was up and clean and wearing respectable clothes, well, sort of respectable. A button up flannel and jeans. 

She came with Erik in her arms and a social worker at her back. Jacob smirked in satisfaction. He watched her narrow her eyes and look around at the well maintained lawn. He’d put in a new mailbox that didn’t look like it had gotten bludgeoned with a baseball bat and screwed on shiny new house numbers. 

They rang the doorbell, which worked now. Jacob answered the door, his heart hammering. He was gonna meet his little boy. He was going to get to hold him and take care of him and everything. His chest tightened. 

The social worker had a clipboard under her arm but smiled when she greeted Jacob, “Mr. Torrance, nice to meet you.”

He shook her hand, “You too, ma’am.” He nodded at Candy, “Cand. Can I hold him?” 

She couldn’t say no, he had a court order that he got the kid every weekend. She held him out. 

Jacob took him carefully, tucking him into his arm like he’d read he was supposed to. Little fucking thing didn’t even have enough muscles to keep his head up. He was so small, tiny. His itty bitty fingers clutched the blanket he was wrapped in. Jacob’s throat closed up again. This was his kid. He was holding his son in his arms. He forgot, for a minute that Erik’s mom and a social worker were standing there, waiting. He just looked at the kid, touched his soft patch of hair with his big hand. 

“Hey, buddy,” he said softly, “Nice to meet you. I’m your dad.” His voice choked at the end and he gritted his teeth against it. 

“Mr. Torrance,” the social worker said, “Miss Perry has put in a request that your house be inspected for suitability, due to your infractions with the law, the state has agreed.

“Sure, sure,” He said, “Poke around.” 

He followed her, grinning when she approvingly noted the safety measures and ticked off boxes in the kitchen and living room. He was particularly pleased at Candy’s narrowed eyes upon seeing the dino themed bedroom. But the social worker seemed satisfied. 

“Now, Mr. Torrance, I am told that due to the nature of your job, you have a number of weapons in the house, is that correct?” 

“Yes, ma’am, but I got ‘em all locked up, you wanna see?”

“Yes, Mr. Torrance.” 

He showed her the gun safe and she inspected it, “This seems to be in order, Mr. Torrance. I have not problems with the child residing here.” 

Candy scowled, “When did you have time to do all this, Jake?”

“Took some time off work.” 

“And what is it that you do for a living, Mr. Torrance?” 

Candy grinned but he grinned right back, “Oh, it’s Dr. Torrance actually, you know. I’m a Monstrumologist. Study rare human parasites and antagonistic predators.” 

“You’re a doctor?” The social worker said in surprise. 

“Yeah,” he smirked, “Of aberrant biology. Here, I got a card,” he took out one of his infrequently used business cards and gave it to her, it listed not only his name and number but von Helrung’s too, as the president of the society. 

She took it and clipped it into the file. 

“Could I get your contact info, ma’am, in case I need to get copies of that file?” 

“Of course, Dr. Torrance, thank you for your time, you have a nice day.” She gave him a card of her own as well as a smile and left, leaving Torrance pleased with himself. 

He closed the door behind them and looked down at Erik, who was still in his arm, “Hey, kid, just you and me now.” He bent down and kissed Erik’s little forehead then drew back swearing softly. “You need a new diaper, kid.”

He took him upstairs, still a little in awe that he was alone with his son. And put him on the mat that had been laid over the top of the dresser. He’d looked at diagrams on how to do this, but the real thing was much more squirmy, and starting to cry. 

He unwrapped the blanket and unclipped the snaps on his onesie. He took tore off the disposable diaper and swore again. This was some fucking diaper rash. He looked like he’d been sitting in his own filth for hours. It wasn’t just red, sore lesions on Erik’s little underside. 

“Oh, kid, no wonder you’re crying. Ok. Ok. Don’t worry, I got you.” He carefully cleaned him up, being gentle with the sore skin. He didn’t redress him, just smeared on some ointment he’d picked up to soothe the stinging and put him bare bottomed against his shoulder. 

“What’s the worst you’ll do, tiger?” He said in a soft voice, “Piss on me? Not like I ain’t had worse. That feels better huh?” 

He took him downstairs, and, rocking him a little to keep him calm dug out his work camera. He checked the film and went back upstairs, it was a nice camera, left timestamps. That’s what he wanted. He’d watch the social worker, write down what time they had come. Time lines were important. 

“Sorry kid,” he said and he took pictures of the sores, “How bout we take you to the doctor, alright? Make sure those don’t get infected.” He started doing up another diaper and Erik started crying again, “Oh, I know, I know, feels like shit, huh? Sorry, kid, I don’t wanna hurt you but you gotta wear a diaper to the doctor. Come on, little man, lemme put some clothes on you that don’t smell like cigarettes. That’s better, huh? No, go on and cry, buddy, your ass must hurt like hell.” 

He packed up his new diaper bag and carried it and Erik downstairs to the car. He strapped Erik in, doing the checklist to make sure he fit in there right, then drove him to the doctors. 

He didn’t have to wait long, and only got a few glares from parents for not being able to keep him quiet. Jesus, he’d be crying too. 

“Who am I looking at today?” the doctor said when he joined Erik and Jacob in the doctor’s office. 

“This is Erik. I was changing him and he’s got this real bad diaper rash, I’m real worried about it.” 

“Well let’s take a look.” 

Jacob laid Erik onto the papered table and drew off his new onesie and diaper. The doctor scowled, “How long was he in a dirty diaper?” His voice had a vicious edge to it that appeased Torrance. 

“I dunno, I-”

The doctor’s eyes narrowed, “Mr. Torrance, I am going to have to contact child protective services for an inquiry. This sort of thing does not happen without significant neglect.” 

“Go ahead and call ‘em, doc, I just got him from his mom. I haven’t had him for more than an hour, went upstairs to change his diaper and found all this.” He had had the foresight to bring along the paperwork scheduling Torrance’s first visitation and the partial custody forms. 

Torrance tried not to grin, he wasn’t by any means happy his kid had sores all over his rear end, but it was better than what could have happened, “Doc, you willing to write down a statement saying that the kid was neglected? Send it into my lawyer?” 

“That is standard procedure, Mr. Torrance, I will make a statement to the state’s Child Protective Services, tell your lawyer to contact them for a copy.”

“Will do, doc, thank you much. So I just pick up this cream for him at the pharmacy?” 

___________________________________

For the second court date he had his own inspection by a social worker, the same one. He’d called her personally, Helene Fitz. Told her about the doctor visit, gave her the case number he’d gotten of the doctor’s report. He had it all written down. His notebook was getting sort of full with all the dates and times and notes he had about Erik. He had never even had this many notes on a case. 

“Upon review of the case, I would be happy to complete an inspection of her place of residence.”

Torrance didn’t get to be there for it, which he sorely wished he had, but he got to read her notes after Sullivan got ahold of them. Unlocked alcohol under the sink. Dirty conditions in the child’s room. Smell of cigarettes throughout. When I arrived the home was occupied with an unnamed male adult who appeared to have taken residence. 

When he’d read it Torrance had had equal feelings of anger and satisfaction. His fucking kid was living in that house where he sat in his own shit for so many hours he needed prescription ointment for the sores, being ignored so Candy could get with some guy. It isn’t like she signed up for a kid, but for shit’s sake, he had offered to take him. If she didn’t want him she didn’t have to have him. 

He had been bowled over by how hard it had been to give Erik back. He knew he had to, but when Candy came to pick him up on Sunday evening, and Jacob had nearly not been able to do it. Erik was only two months old and really just sat there and slept and pooped and cried, but Jacob couldn’t tear himself away. Putting Erik back into Candy’s hands and letting her drive off with him was the hardest thing he had ever done.

But he was sure of himself now. He’d had time to get on his feet, to get his case together. He had the doctor report, both reports from the social worker, he’d have von Helrung and John Chanler as character witnesses. 

But still, when the judge reached his verdict Jacob tensed, trying to prepare himself for the very worst. 

“It is my verdict,” he said gravely, “Upon reviewing the care provided by Miss Perry, that Mr. Torrance should be granted full custody. Miss Perry’s visitations will be further reviewed after completion of her charges of negligence.” 

Torrance let out a startled yell of jubilation and whipped around, throwing his meaty arms around John Chanler in a crushing hug. 

John gave a strained ‘oof’ but laughed with Torrance and reciprocated the embrace, “Good man, Torrance,” he said, “Congratulations.” 

“Thanks, man,” he clapped John on the shoulder after letting him go, “And thanks for coming down.” 

“Not a problem, Jake, you should bring him around to the colloquium in a couple weeks though. Introduce him to everybody.” 

“Well what else am I gonna do with him?” 

Sullivan, who had crossed the courtroom to collect Erik, came back, holding the carrier, “Here you are, Jacob, all yours.” 

Jacob tipped his head back, unsuccessfully trying to hold back tears and plucked his boy out of his carrier, laying him on his shoulder, “I got you, kid, I got you.” 

________________

He did bring the boy to the colloquium in October. How could he not. He wasn’t going to leave him with some daycare for four days. 

“You n’ me are going to a big party, kid,” he said, tapping Erik on the nose with a broad finger, “Gotta get you cleaned up.” 

The diaper rash had healed by then and Erik was as happy as a goddamn clam. He had even bought him and itty bitty tuxedo onesie for the occasion. “You’re gonna look smart, kid. You wanna eat before we go, tiger? Bet you do.” 

He spent a little time getting him to get a bottle down and even remembered to take off his own jacket before burping him on his shoulder. 

When the kid was fed, he got Erik all ready, managed to get himself ready too, then wrapped him up in a cozy blanket for the journey from the hotel to the ball, October was chilly in New York. 

He was more than a little nervous for the introduction of Erik Torrance. It was Torrance now, he’d seen to the name change himself. He had a bit of a reputation at the Society that would be a little at odds with turning up with a baby. But how could he leave this fucking goober behind? Plus, he’d gotten more than one phone call from Warthrop complaining that their Canadian expedition had failed with his absence. It’d be nice to show him what he’d been doing that he couldn’t make it. Not that he really thought Warthrop would agree with him, James would. 

Erik was quiet when he came into the ball venue, tucked into the crook of Torrance’s arm, “Ready, kid?” 

He wanted to just make straight for his seat, but he didn’t get that far. He was in the doorway between the ballroom and the lobby when he was called around, “Torrance, hey!” 

He turned to see Peak fixing him with a wide smile, “What you got that, Torrance? Something fun? Hope it’s not alive of Solowit will skin you.” 

“Oh, he’s alive, alright,” Torrance said. 

“You’re braver than I am, let me have a look.” He padded up to Torrance and looked at the thing he was holding, obviously expecting some interesting tiny predator, “Holy shit, Jake, that’s a kid.” 

“The world’s lucky you’re a biologist.” 

“Shut it, that _your_ kid?” 

“Yeah, his name’s Erik.” 

Torrance had begun to attract other people’s attention and they all scooted close to look at the squirming baby in his arms who was now unwrapped and giggling in his tiny tuxedo. 

From his side he heard James Henry’s thrilled voice, “Is this what kept you from Canada, Torrance?” 

“Sure is, Henry,” he said grinning at him.

James’ much more sour master glared down at Torrance with his dark eyes, “I am not sure why it took you so many months,” he sneered, “It isn’t as though you were gestating it yourself.” 

“Custody battle,” Torrance said simply, digging his free hand through the diaper bag for a pacifier. 

“You mean you elected to care for it?” Warthrop asked, drawing back. 

“Course I did, it’s my kid.” 

James was smiling at Erik fondly, “I’ve always wanted kids.” 

“You got time,” Torrance laughed. 

Warthrop scowled, “He most certainly does not. Children are a waste of time and attention.” 

Torrance looked back at Henry, hoping to further irritate Warthrop with a child themed line of questioning, “What would you name one, if you had one?”

James lit up, “I like Elizabeth for a girl, Sammy for a boy, but Mary like William.” 

“Cute,” Torrance said, “What do you think, Warthrop? Sam Henry or Will Henry?” 

Warthrop glared, “I could not care either way, what would it matter what I think of it. Be it Sam Henry or Will Henry I will have nothing to do with it. But I must reiterate James that you have no time for children.” 

There was quite a crowd now, all craning their necks to look at the littlest Torrance, it was making quite a blockade in the doorway. 

Suddenly a stinging voice cut through the milieu of the crowd, “What are you motherfuckers blocking the entrance for?” A path was cleared for her immediately, the amazonianly tall Solowit, von Helrung’s fiery financial manager who had made a name for herself the year before by breaking up the annual brawl. She was young and hotheaded, of age with Torrance.

“What they hell have you got, Torrance?” She snarled, looking down at him from her high heels. 

He quirked up a little grin at her, “Homo Sapien. But just a little one.” 

She fairly gaped at him, “A homo sapien is a human, Torrance.” 

He scowled, “Fuck you, I’m part of this Society, aren’t I, I know what a homo sapien is.” 

“You...you can’t just take babies, Torrance.” 

James piped up from his elbow, “It’s his, Solowit.” 

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.” 

Warthrop distracted her by exclaiming, “God, Torrance, that thing smells.” 

Jacob grinned at him, “What are you so upset for, Warthrop? He just pooped. Babies poop. Or did you forget humans have to do that, little messier than recharging your batteries when they run dead, huh, you goddamn robot.” 

Warthrop’s eyes narrowed and James said, “There’s no need for that.” 

“Give me some room,” Torrance said, “I gotta go clean up my boy before Warthrop has a conniption.” Leaving the awestruck crowd, he pushed his way toward to hall bathrooms.


	26. Teenage Dirtbag, Baby

**Teenage Dirtbag, Baby**

Erik Torrance dragged himself out of bed, with a groan, smacking his alarm clock until it stopped screeching. He mussed his hair with his hand and yawned. His old bloodhound, Rex perked up from the foot of his bed. Even at 13 he still waddled up to Erik’s face the second he woke up and slobbered all over it. 

“Stop it, Rex,” He said, wiping off his face and pushing the dog away. The dog whined when he started for the door and Erik doubled back. His poor knees couldn’t take the jump down anymore. Erik lifted him up and set him on the ground. It would have been easier if the dog had just not slept on his bed, but they’d gotten Rex when Erik was four years old and they’d shared a bed since day one. Neither of them slept very well without their companion.

He padded downstairs in only his boxers, stomach already grumbling for breakfast, Rex plodding along behind. 

He turned his head back toward the stairs while he walked into the kitchen and shouted, “Dad! You want some eggs for breakfast?” When he turned back to dig through the fridge he froze. Solowit, terror of Society Colloquium trouble makers everywhere, was sitting at the kitchen table wearing one of his dad’s shirts. Even sitting down she looked tall and imposing. Her hair messy with yesterday’s product. 

Pink flared over Erik’s cheeks and he hunched up his bare shoulders. Rex, traitor that he was, happily lumbered over to her and started slobbering on her knees. 

“Morning, Erik.” 

He didn’t say good morning back, he scowled and ducked his head, then snagged a bowl and spoon from the cupboard, grabbed a box of cereal and the whole gallon of milk and retreated back to his room without a word. He waited for a couple seconds at the bottom of the stairs for Rex, but the dog seemed happy having his ears scratched by Solowit. 

His dad came out of his bedroom while Erik was on his way into his own and said, “Yeah, kid, eggs sound-”

But Erik slammed his bedroom door. 

Angrily he pulled on sweatpants and a t-shirt and poured his cereal at his desk. He knew it wasn’t fair to his dad to be so angry. He’d been dating Solowit for nearly a month, of course she spent the night sometimes. But he didn’t like having someone else in the house. And he didn’t like somebody else taking up all of his dad’s time in the evenings. He knew he sounded like a whiny kid. But yesterday had been Wednesday night, which meant no football practice. It was a longstanding tradition of theirs that they ate together on Wednesday nights, usually after they played video games, or catch outside if it was nice. 

Dad had been there for dinner, but so had Solowit. Which wasn’t the same. Instead of the easy and often rambunctious dinner Erik had been quiet and tense. He’d wanted to ask his dad what he was supposed to get a girlfriend of almost three months for Christmas. But like hell he was going to ask him that in front of Solowit. 

He was still sort of mad at Solowit about Warthrop anyway. After their adventurous excursion on the night of the Society Ball, they’d cut almost all of the colloquium’s activities to spend time together. On the last day, just a couple of hours before she would go back to New Jerusalem and he would go back to Boston, he’d talked her into one last adventure: 

_“Come on, Warthrop, you chicken?” He’d asked playfully, pulling her by the hand, “Come on, I wanna show you something.”_

_She’d glanced around a little anxiously, “My dad is already pretty mad about disappearing yesterday.”_

_He’d given her what he thought was a monumentally charming smile, “Well alright, if you’re scared.”_

_She seemed to agree about it being charming, because she relented, “Fine, Torrance, you win, lead on.” Despite her initial hesitancy she seemed excited._

_“Shhh,” he hissed and led her through a back hallway of the old opera house and to an door marked, ‘Do Not Enter.’_

_“Looks like my kind of place,” she said sarcastically._

_He tried to pull it open and swore under his breath, “It’s no good, it’s locked.”_

_“Don’t you learn?” She asked, and produced the lockpick kit she’d shown off on their first excursion. She made quick work of the lock and opened the door for him._

_He let the door close after her, leaving them in the mostly unlit gloom and he said, “Welcome to the Beastie Bin, Warthrop.” He smirked and, only hesitating a little, took her hand, “So you won’t get lost.”_

_“My goddamn hero.”_

_He stifled a laugh and led her down the sloping hallway, “My dad and I hunted this thing down last summer,” he said, smirking at her and feeling very macho. Monstrumologists these days mostly concerned themselves with parasites, but every once in awhile a big toothy beast would crop up that needed dealing with. Those were a favorite of both Erik and his father._

_“You and your dad go hunting together?”_

_“Yeah, we tried to get it alive but it was too aggressive.”_

_“Sounds like more fun than sitting in the basement for days on end.”_

_“Welcome to the fun part of Monstrumology, Warthrop, let your dad rot in the lab.”_

_“Is that what you’re showing me, Erik? The thing your dad and you hunted?”_

_A little thrill went up his spine when she said his name, “Yeah.”_

_“So who brought it down? You or your dad?”_

_He really desperately wanted to say him, but he thought the truth would probably come out at some point and the small hit to pride now would be nothing to the teasing if he lied, “Dad did, but I got a couple shots in.”_

_He took down a number of twisting and turning hallways, then he opened up a door and brought her into the room where it was kept._

_She looked up at the preserved creature and swore, “You hunted that?”_

_“Yeah, it’s called a Hodag,” he said, standing very close behind her. It was over fifteen feet tall, a little like a wild hog but covered in spines and long curving horns that protruded from its snout. He leaned in to whisper right in her ear, “The trick is to get it to rear up and get it in the belly.”_

_“That’s so fucking wicked,” she said breathlessly. She turned around, still so goddamn close and looked at him. She was clearly impressed and he felt unbelievably tough and masculine._

_“So after we take off, you should call me,” he said, risking a move of his hand from her own to her waist._

_She grinned, “Yeah, definitely.”_

_She smelled so good this close, blood was rushing to his head, he felt a little dizzy. “Hey, Warthrop.”_

_Her eyes flickered between his eyes and his lips, “Yeah, Torrance?”_

_“I’m gonna kiss you.”_

_“Not if I kiss you first.”_

_He paused over her lips, waiting for dramatic effect. She was holding him by the front of his shirt. She smelled like vanilla. They were standing in the semi darkness under the coolest thing he’d ever hunted. It was absolutely perfect. It would have been a kiss for the ages. But he never quite got there._

_“What the fuck do you kids think you’re doing in here?” Came Solowit’s irritated bark._

_They leapt away from each other, crimson covering both of their faces. She flipped on the electric lights, killing the dark ambiance._

_She stalked forward, heels clicking, towering over them. She seized both of them by the ears like schoolchildren and pulled them out of the Beastie Bin, “I’ll just bring you back to your dads, how does that sound?”_

_His own dad was standing alongside Kearns and Warthrop when she dragged them both up, apparently they had been missed. When his dad had seen him and the pretty girl he’d been chasing after for a week being dragged out of the Beastie Bin by the ears he’d started laughing. But Warthrop and Kearns had slightly different reactions._

_Warthrop stalked forward and seized Anna by the wrist, pulling her away from Erik, “I was explicitly clear yesterday about my expectations. And yet I have once again found you cavorting with some boy.”_

_Released into his dad’s care, the older Torrance had just thrown an arm around his shoulders, “You kiss her, kid?” He asked quietly._

_“No,” he scowled, “Didn’t even get a chance to get her number, she said she’d call too.” He glared at Solowit, wishing he could burn holes through her. He felt unbelievably cheated._

_His dad tousled his hair, “Don’t worry, I got Warthrop’s number, you can call her.” Still, not only had he had to call her home number and ask Dr. Warthrop to let him talk to her, he’d had to wait two entire weeks before they’d been able to meet up and he’d finally gotten to kiss her. It had been a nice kiss, she’d still smelled like vanilla and she was still the coolest girl he’d ever met. But they weren’t poised under his greatest conquest to date on a secret interlude._

 

He found it hard to forgive Solowit for that. Sure, she had been doing her job, but she’d stolen a kiss that he had planned since the first time he saw Anna standing next to her family. And now she was here, sitting in his kitchen wearing his dad’s shirt and petting his dog. 

He finished his cereal and shoved his stuff into his bag for school, even though it was only seven and school didn’t start until eight thirty. He pulled on a sweatshirt against the cold and hoisted his backpack and his duffle bag onto his shoulder. He lurked back into the kitchen and put away the milk and cereal, dropping his dirty dishes into the sink. 

“You going already, kid?” his father,who was not stationed next to Solowit asked, “It’s barely seven.” 

“Got weights this morning, for football,” Erik mumbled, not looking at them. Even this, a bold faced lie about his daily life felt too personal to say in front of her. She didn’t want her knowing when he had activities and how he did at games. He certainly didn’t want her knowing when he was stressed out about tests. His last report card was still on the fridge, he wanted to rip it down before she saw. It wasn’t even a bad report card, only one C and an A in science and gym. But he didn’t want her looking at it like she was part of his family. 

“Thought that was Mondays and Wednesdays,” his dad questioned. That was true and his dad would know it, he knew everything Erik did. Not invasively, Erik _told_ everything he did.

“No, it’s different now that we’re in the playoffs,” he lied. 

“Wasn’t last year.” 

“Yeah, well it is this year,” Erik snapped and careened out of the room, heading straight for the door. He’d felt too weird to shower when she was downstairs. He wanted to get out of the house, he’d get to school early and work out some then shower in the locker room. Better than sitting with them over breakfast. 

He threw his stuff into the passenger seat of his Mustang and left for school. 

________________________

When he got home, Solowit’s car was, mercifully, gone. It was late, his football team was going to State in a couple of weeks and their practices were long and hard now. His muscles were comfortably sore after it. He went inside, dropping his stuff off in the living room and going straight for the kitchen, absolutely starving. 

“Hey, kid,” his dad said, coming out of his study, “How was practice?” 

“S’good,” Erik mumbled. 

“How was school?” 

“Fine.” 

“You had a math test today, right? How’d it go?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t gotten it back yet.” 

“Alright, but how do you think it went.” 

“I don’t know, dad, fine I guess.” 

“You mad at me, kid?” 

Erik gruffly crossed his arms and looked down. At seventeen he was still smaller that his dad, both in breadth and in height. Right now, he felt every inch of it. “No.” 

“Kid,” his dad said beseechingly. 

He didn’t know why it felt so weird telling him how the test had gone. He’d been excited, it had gone really really well. But he had a rotten sense that he didn’t know what stuff he said to his dad stayed between just him and his dad anymore. It wasn’t like he would tell her stuff that was embarrassing. But Erik felt shifty about her knowing how he was doing on tests, or getting commentary on how his relationship with Warthrop was going. He headed his dad off. 

“You told me Warthrop couldn’t stay over.” 

His dad laughed a little helplessly, “You’re seventeen, she’s sixteen, plus, if I let her sleep over here her dad would kill me. Is that what you’re pissed about? That I get to have girls stay over?” 

Erik was brilliantly red now, “Just gimme a heads up next time when some chick is gonna be in the house in the morning, I came down in my underwear.” 

Torrance shrugged, “Yeah, ok, that seems fair. Sorry, kid, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“I wasn’t embarrassed,” he defended himself, “Just would have put on pants if I knew she was here. Can I go now? I’m starving.” 

“Sure, kid.” 

Erik retreated into the kitchen. He felt mad and upset all over again. Talking to his dad had always been so easy. He’d always told him everything. He’d been looking forward to telling him about how good he’d thought he did on his math test, he was going to get a B this year, he thought. He’d been working really hard. And he’d made a really good throw at practice, he wanted to tell his dad that he thought they might win State this year. How excited he was to close out his high school career with that kind of victory. But now he just felt weird and tense and angry. 

He dug out some cold pizza from the fridge and heated it up, eating two pieces cold while he waited for the rest to nuke. He tossed his crusts to Rex, who was sleeping on the kitchen rug. He woke up right away to gobble them down. 

His dad came into the kitchen while he was waiting. 

“Sorry we skipped out on games, yesterday. You wanna play Need for Speed? I knew you wanted a copy, picked it up this afternoon.” 

Erik did want to play Need for Speed. What he really wanted was to spend the whole evening playing that stupid game on the couch with his dad, making fun of each other when they lost. They’d liked any racing game they could get their hands on since he’d been old enough to man a controller. He still remembered when he was seven and his dad had brought home an N64 and Mario Kart. They’d played that goddamn game all weekend. His dad was always Bowser. He was always Wario. 

“I got homework,” He said instead. 

“Oh yeah, you better get that done. How’s English going? Your grade up since conferences?” 

“My English grade is fine.” 

“Wasn’t at midterm. Did you finish _Brave New World_?”

“Yeah, dad, I finished it, I have a test on in next week.”

“When’s your senior research paper due?”

“Not till next semester, dad, we just have to have our research done by break.” 

“You do the research?” 

“Yeah, dad, god, I can keep track of my own homework.” He took the heated up pizza and went upstairs, picking up his backpack on the way and whistling for Rex to join him, which he did after some struggle in getting up. It hurried the process that Erik had food in his hand. 

“Do your homework when you get up there,” his dad called after him, “Don’t stay up all night talking to Warthrop.” 

He had been planning on doing his homework, he the last couple bibliographies to write up for his English research, but as soon as his dad yelled that, he took out his phone right away when he closed the door and called Anna. 

Her cellphone rang through and he got the monotone recorded answer, “Hi, this is Anna Warthrop’s phone, it’s currently living in Jack Kearns’ desk until I learn not to be an irresponsible adolescent scourge who dents motorcycles. If you want to reach me you have to call the house.” 

Erik slumped in disappointment, he would call her anyway, but she was never as candid when she was on her house phone. Kearns and her dad tended to pick other receivers up without warning to deliver messages to her. Which was usually, ‘Stop talking to the pubescent hound and come to dinner,” or “Release your muscle bound sweetling and come to supper” depending on which one picked up. 

But he wanted to talk to somebody, so he called her house, hoping he would have the good fortune of her answering, or at least Will. Her house phone rang about twenty times before someone answered, then immediately hung up. That would be Dr. Warthrop. When he forgot a cordless down in his lab and no one else answered he did the solemn duty of convincing callers to leave him alone. Erik called again to the same result. 

He threw his phone at his bed and yanked his homework from his bag. He finished up the bibliographies in sloppy handwriting. He didn’t have any other actual homework, but he took out his AP Biology textbook and set to work. He really wanted to do well in that. He’d always been pretty good at science, which was good, since he’d always wanted to be what his dad was when he grew up. He didn’t usually spend whole nights studying, but there wasn’t much else to do locked up in his room. At about midnight he went to bed. 

__________________________

 

It got slightly better for awhile after that. His dad was good about warning him that Solowit would be around and he got pretty good at coming up with reasons to leave the house whenever she was. But she didn’t come around for Christmas, and that helped. It was just him and his dad, which was how Christmas was supposed to be. Just like every year, they ordered in Chinese food and spent the rest of the evening alternating between cards and video games. His dad got him a new rifle for that year’s hunting trip. And they’d won at State. 

But she turned back up after that, more and more frequently, which drove Erik out of the house more and more often. He’d just been told she would be coming around on Friday night.

He had barely been told she would be there when he went up into his room and called Warthrop, happy that she finally had her phone back. 

“Hey Torrance,” she said happily when she answered.

“Hey Warthrop,” he replied fondly, “What are you up to on Friday evening?” 

“Are you gonna be in town?” She said, sounding enthused. 

“No, but Say Anything is playing in Boston, you like them, you wanna go?” 

“Yeah! I don’t think my dad will let me though.” 

“So sneak out,” god what stupid advice, sneak out of a house with Pellinore Warthrop and Jack Kearns. 

“Ok,” she said, “You mind if we bring Will and Malachi though? I’ll get their tickets.” 

He should have said, ‘I sort of wanted it to just be us,’ because he did. He liked people better one on one and he hardly ever got time alone with Anna. He wanted to tell her how mad he was about Solowit, and that he’d gotten a scholarship to play football at Duke. But he never was much good at telling people what he felt about stuff so he just said, “Sure, if you want them to come, bring them.” 

“Cool!” 

He could have just talked to her then, but he felt so disappointed that she’d wanted to bring her baby brother and his friend that he just said, “So, I’ll see you on Friday.” 

“Oh, bye Erik.” 

He shut his phone and crawled onto his bed. This was stupid. He was being stupid. But his dad seemed so happy around Solowit, he didn’t want to tell him he didn’t like her. How was that fair? But she was intimidating and he’d liked her better when she was just somebody Anna and he had to dodge when they were messing around during colloquiums. 

He should get up and go tell his dad he got a scholarship. But he felt so tired. After a couple of minutes of laying there it was too much of an impulse and he couldn’t resist. He padded downstairs in barefeet. His dad was on the couch watching TV, Rex asleep on top of his feet. 

“Hey,” he said, coming over and sitting next to him. 

“Hey, kid,” his dad said, moving over to give him more room

A couple of minutes passed in silence, both of them watching the screen. He had just decided to just tell him when his dad spoke first. 

“I asked Solo if she wanted to come camping with us.” 

“Solo?”

“Solowit.”

Erik crossed his arms. The camping trip was their one big tradition. It was their thing. They’d gone every single year for as long as Erik could remember. Just him and his dad. Nobody else had ever gone with. Erik had never wanted anybody else to go with. His friends always jokingly said they felt sorry for him when he told them he was going camping for a month in the summer with his dad. But he loved it. It was the highlight of the year hands down. His stomach twisted up not just that someone else would be there, but that his dad had _wanted_ someone else to be there. His throat closed up so he didn’t say anything. He just shrugged. 

“Is that alright, Erik?” 

“Yeah, that’s whatever. I don’t care.” But he did care. He cared so much that for the first time in his tumultuous teenage years he wanted to punch his dad. Felt the very first impulse he ever had to scream that he hated him and slam his bedroom door. He wanted to key his dad’s pickup. 

Contradictingly he also wanted to cry and put his head on his dad’s lap like when he was a little kid and have his dad make him ravioli from a can. He had always put a big hand in his hair and said, “What’s got you down, kid?” 

“Look, kid, if you don’t want her to come she doesn’t have to come.” 

“No, dad, it’s fine, it’s whatever. If you want her there, bring her.”

Didn’t anybody want to be alone with him? 

The question rose up out of nowhere and spilled out of his mouth before he really had a handle on it, “What was mom like?” 

His dad’s head snapped over, “What?” 

“My mom, you’ve never told me what she was like.” 

“Your mom was a piece of work, kid.”

“Why’d you two break up?” 

Torrance swore, “We were never really together like that, kid. Shit, do you really want to talk about this?” 

“No.” But he did want to talk about it. He wanted to know why his mom never called or sent him cards. Why she gave him up to just his dad in the first place. He’d never been told. He just knew she was alive and that she’d never tried to see him. It shouldn’t matter, but it left a deep, stinging, sour wound. 

“Alright.” 

“I’m gonna go for a drive,” he said. The walls around him suddenly felt claustrophobic. 

“Sure, kid, be home by midnight.” 

He got in his car and drove straight out of town, his dad would be pissed for going so far but he didn’t care. It was a two hour drive, one a.m. before he got into New Jerusalem. At twelve thirty his dad had called him three times in a row. He hadn’t answered. 

He pulled up to Harrington Lane, which still sort of gave him the chills, and cut the engine. He got out and crept up the lawn, he shivered in the chilly January air, he hadn’t brought his coat. 

Feeling very much like a protagonist from an 80’s movie he scrounged around for some pebbles and tossed them up at Anna’s window. He just wanted to talk to somebody. Everything felt like it was slipping out from under him so fast. 

Craning up to watch for her appearing at her window, he whipped around when the front door clattered open. For a single stupid second he thought it’d be her. Of course it wasn’t. Dr. Pellinore Warthrop stood framed in his doorway, bloody to the elbows, ragged and dirty lab coat flapping around him. He loomed, tall and intimidating. 

“Torrance,” he barked, “What the devil do you think that you are doing?” He stalked onto the lawn at Erik who resisted fleeing to his car.

“Did you believe that you could drive that monstrosity onto my doorstep and attempt to assault my house without my discovering you? Do you think yourself to supremely clever that you thought I, _Dr. Pellinore Warthrop_ would be fooled?” 

Erik shrank back, smart enough not to run away when his girlfriend’s dad was shouting at him. But Dr. Warthrop had gotten really close and he smelled like decay. “Uh...no...I just wanted to see Anna.” 

“ _See_ her? Is that what you wanted? I am acquainted with your father and his behaviour, I well can presume your intentions for my daughter.” 

“No, that’s not what I’m here for!” Erik said, feeling that it was unbelievably unfair what he was being accused of. He really did just want to talk. 

“Pellinore, whatever are you shouting about?” Came a silken voice from the doorway, “Oh dear, is that the Torrance boy?” Erik could have whimpered. John Kearns stepped off the porch and circled around behind him, hands in his pockets and flesh eating grin on his face. Erik had not known, until then, how terrifying a man could look while in pajamas. From behind Erik’s ear he purred, “Up to no good are we?” 

Erik stiffened, he was a pretty tall guy, why was he constantly surrounded by people who made him feel like a kid? “No sir. I just...I just wanted to talk to Anna.” His voice sounded weak and pathetic. He’d driven all this way, he just wanted to talk with her. He wasn’t a bad guy, he didn’t know why her parents hated him so much. 

Dr. Warthrop sneered, “Of course he is up to no good, John, why else would a teenage boy be lurking beneath the window of a teenage girl?” He stepped closer to Erik, looming over him, “I’ll have you know that I do not have a moral opposition to carving out your eyes, boy, if you are untoward.” 

Shit. He was nearly in tears. Desperation to tell somebody all of the things that had been clawing at him for months was already looming up so big in his chest he nearly always thought he was going to puke, and now his girlfriend’s blood covered dad was threatening him in the middle of the night. He gritted his teeth and felt his throat constrict. 

“Oh, Pellinore,” Kearns chided playfully, “I am not sure that is in order, were I offering ideas I would aim quite a bit lower in the carving.” 

Warthrop tilted his head to the side and inspected Erik like he were a dead specimen, “Perhaps we ought to invite him inside.” 

Kearns gave a jolly laugh, “A capitol idea, Pellinore. What do you say, Master Torrance? Would you like to come in?” 

At the moment that sounded like an invitation to walk into the jaws of hell itself. “Uh...no sir…I’ll just...take off.” 

“Are you certain?” Kearns asked, raising an eyebrow. He stood next to Warthrop now and for a minute they looked utterly terrifying. The shadows of the dark night making Warthop’s face hauntingly angular, with the blood and human spatter on his hands and coat. And Kearns whose blond hair was glittering in the streetlight and looking a little spectral. 

Erik shrank back, “Yes, sir. I just wanted to see Anna.” 

Kearns relented a bit and looked at Warthrop, “Perhaps we ought to let him see her, they are, after all, an item.” 

“Look, I’ll just go, alright, sorry.” Then he fled, back into his car, revved it to life and took off down the street. About a block away his phone rang. 

“Hello?” He asked glumly. 

“Erik, did you just drive passed my house?” It was Anna. 

“Shit, is my car that loud?”

“Yeah, dumbass.” 

“I stopped by, I wanted to see you. Your dads caught me.” 

“Shit, really? You should have called, I could have met you outside. You drove all the way here?” 

“Yeah, I just...I really wanted to see you, Warthrop.” 

“Ok, look, get onto tenth street and drive north out of town, hit a right soon as you can. There’s this weird old tree all on its own, I’ll meet you there in an hour, alright?” 

Erik couldn’t help the gleeful grin on his face, “Alright, Warthrop!” 

“See you, Torrance.” 

He found the tree easy enough, parked his car and sat on the hood. His dad called while he waited but he didn’t pick up. The cold air, particularly biting outside of town where there was more wind, was weirdly soothing. He let it bite into his skin until Anna came on her monster of a bike. He grinned. He might love her. 

She dismounted from her bike and pulled off her helmet. Her short cut hair, unfixed this late at night, swished around her ears. Erik couldn’t help himself. He slid off the hood of his car, marched over to her, tugged her against him by the waist and kissed her. She smelled like vanilla. 

When he let her go she was breathless and smiling, “Nice to see you too, Torrance.” 

“Thanks for coming to meet me.” 

“Course,” she said, “Sorry about my dads.” 

Erik shrugged, “I missed you.” 

She was grinning helplessly, “You couldn’t wait until Friday?” 

“No,” he kissed her again, holding her by the hips and really kissing her. He loved this, being alone with her with nobody else around. “Come here.” 

He stretched out on his back on the hood of his car, which was still warm and felt good against the cold. She laid down next to him, laying her head on his shoulder. “The stars are really bright here,” he said.

“This why you drove all the way here?” She asked, she sounded tired, but then it was almost two in the morning. 

Erik suddenly felt very tired too, “I got into Duke,” he said finally, “I got a football scholarship.” 

She sat up, supporting her weight with one hand and looking at him, “For real, Erik?” 

He smiled lazily and lifted his hand to brush her hair out of her eyes, “Yeah, for real.” 

She kissed him and he might have melted. He put his hand on her cheek and held her there. When she laid back down she said, “Congratulations, Erik.” 

“Thanks, Anna.” 

His phone buzzed again, loud against the hood of the car. He looked at it, saw that it was his dad again and put it back in his pocket. 

“Who’s that?”

“Just my dad.” 

“You aren’t gonna get it?” 

“Does it look like I’m gonna get it?” 

“Something wrong, Erik?” 

He was quiet for a really long time, then he said, “He’s dating Solowit.” 

She laughed, “For real? I guess I can see it. Good for him, I guess.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

She tilted back her head and looked at him, “Don’t you like her?” 

“I guess I like her okay, I mean, I liked her okay when she wasn’t at my house all the time.” 

“Oh, she over a lot?” 

“I dunno,” he didn’t want to sound whiney, “Was it weird when Warthrop started up with Kearns?” 

She laughed, “No, it was great, I love Jack. And he makes my dad less gloomy which he desperately needs. Nah, I was rooting for them. But I’d only been living there for a couple years before they got together.” 

“Right, I forgot, you lived with your mom before that?” 

“Foster care, I...left my mom when I was eleven.” 

“Why’d you leave your mom?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it, Erik,” she said quickly. 

“Oh, ok.” He knew he shouldn’t but he felt hurt that she wouldn’t tell him. He felt like he was building up all this stuff he couldn’t talk about and it just sat on his chest like a weight. “I’ve never met my mom.” 

“Do you want to?” 

“I don’t know, my dad hates her.” 

“Do you?” 

“I dunno,” his throat was closing up again, “I mean...she didn’t want me right?” His voice was higher than it usually was. 

“Your dad did.” 

“Will you stay out here with me, Warthrop?” 

“Yeah, but can we go inside your car? It’s fucking freezing.” 

They got up off the hood and both clambered inside the tiny backseat. Erik could half lay down, propped against the side of the car. He pulled off his sweatshirt and let Anna sit down between his legs and lie against his chest, then he settled the sweatshirt over them like a blanket. He wrapped his arms around her, “You good, Warthrop?” 

“Yeah, you smell good.” 

“What do I smell like?” he teased. 

“Man.” 

“Thanks for staying.” 

“It sucks that you and your dad are having a hard time.” 

“Yeah.” 

She cuddled against him, “You two still going camping though? In the summer?” 

“Yeah, course we are. Solowit’s coming though.” 

“That really sucks, Erik.” 

That helped, for some reason, just for his girl to tell him that it sucked. That it was okay to be upset that his dad had a new girlfriend. And who snuck out to sleep in his car with him when she knew she’d get into trouble. God he was tired though. He’d have to leave at six in the morning if he wanted to get to school on time, but that was okay, he’d just sleep for a couple of hours. 

It seemed like he was just drifting off to sleep when a sharp knocking on the window his head rested against jarred him awake. Anna startled awake too. They both twisted around to see Jack Kearns at their back, grinning through the window. Pellinore Warthrop was on the car’s other side, decidedly not grinning. Warthrop had been the one knocking.

“Annalee Warthrop you get out of that car this instant,” he barked. 

“Oh settle down, Pellinore,” they could hear Kearns say from the other side, “Look, they’re only sleeping. What could ever be the harm in that?” 

“Get out of the car, Anna.” 

Anna, red and scowling, got out of the car and stormed toward the darker of her parents, “What the hell, dad? We aren’t doing anything wrong!” 

“If you were not doing anything wrong why did you feel the need to sneak out?” 

Anna looked at Erik, “Just get out of here, ok, I’m sorry.” 

He did leave, thinking it would be better to let her privately deal with her parental tension. Although he had very much so heard Warthrop’s parting promise to call his dad. When he got home just after dawn his dad was waiting for him, arms crossed. 

“What the hell, Erik?” 

“What?” He said. 

“You drive two hours to see Warthop on a school night? Without telling me?” It was the last part that really cut into Erik. It was the first time he’d ever done something secretly. He’d never had to sneak around his dad’s back. “You’ve been off lately, kid.” 

Erik just hung his shoulders, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Was he supposed to defend himself? 

“Pellinore called me, you know, he was pretty mad, and that man can get mad.”

“Yeah, he said he would,” Erik said to the floor. 

His dad sighed, “Look, kid, are you at least being smart about it?” 

“What?” He asked, then he caught on, “No, dad, it isn’t...we were just talking. Well, when Dr. Warthrop found us we were sleeping.” 

“Oh, alright. You okay, Erik?” 

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m tired.” 

“Sure, you’ve been up all night, you’re going to school you know, I’ll drive you.” 

“Ok, dad, can I sleep now?” 

“Yeah, get upstairs.” 

_________________________________________________________________

The concert was nice. Even if her baby brother and his friend were there. He liked Will, so it was still fun, it was just weird to keep his hand on Anna’s waist or whisper in her ear when her brother was watching them. Malachi he’d never met, but seemed fine. 

It wasn’t until that stupid fucking party. He’d dodged another weekend of Solowit around the house, claiming he was going to see a friend from school who’d moved away. He thought that his dad knew that that was bullshit, but he let it slide. Erik wasn’t sure if that was because he wanted to let him have some independence or because he wanted the house empty for him and Solowit. The lie hadn’t come out of nowhere. He really had been invited to a party. A guy who had been on the football team until junior year had told him about it. Told him the host was some rich kid who always had ‘good shit.’ He’d said no, it wasn’t his scene. It wasn’t. 

What he’d actually done was invite Anna out to spend the weekend with him. He’d packed the trunk of his car with camping gear. He’d intended to spend the whole weekend with her, star gazing and tucked away in a tent. Thought that that would be vast improvement on lurking around the house with Solowit in it. 

He’d told her to meet him at an exit just out of town where there was an abandoned corner store she could safely leave her bike. He’d learned his lesson about going to her house. He got there almost an hour early. He sat on the hood of his car and flipped out his phone to kill time. He’d forgotten it on silent and had four missed calls, all from his dad. 

Worried his cover was blown he called back. 

“Dad?”

“Hey, tiger.” 

His dad’s voice was soft and he hadn’t called him tiger since he was in kindergarten. 

“Dad?” 

“I tried to call you, kid, so you could come with, but you didn’t answer.” 

“Dad?” His heart was hammering in his chest, adrenaline began to pulse. 

“Kid, Rex died.” 

Erik made a pathetic whimper, “What?”

“He had a seizure, Solo and I took him in, I tried to get ahold of you.” 

“You put him down?” He asked, his voice rising to a shrieky shout, “You and _Solo_ put down my fucking dog?”

“Hey, kid, not like I had a choice,” his dad’s voice rose with his, “You didn’t answer, he was thirteen years old, you had to know he was going soon. He was my dog too.” 

“He was my fucking dog,” Erik said. He hung up. He couldn’t keep talking. He dropped his head into his hands, hot tears streaking down his face, his throat tightened painfully. His dog. Rex. Rex who’d been his since as long as he could remember. Rex who always slept in his bed and slobbered on his face. His fucking dog. And he hadn’t even been there. Wild painful anger sliced through his blood. He wanted to run. He wanted to get in a fight. He wanted to do something impulsive and stupid. He wanted to forget how mad he was, how mad he was all the time. 

He wiped his face and by the time Anna got there he had a feral grin on his face, “You ready, Warthrop?” 

Then it had all gone south. He had just wanted her to stop keeping all those fucking secrets. What could possibly be so bad that he couldn’t know about it? But she’d hedged and gotten withdrawn and stuttered every time he asked a question. And then he’d told her where they were going. 

“A buddy of mine got ahold of this stuff, says it’s good shit.” He had the impulsive idea of her and him partying in a wild fervor to deaden the spiking anger in his stomach that wouldn’t go away. 

“Fuck no, Erik.” 

In retrospect, he should have apologized. He should have pulled over and told her he was freaking out because his dog had died. Showed her the camping stuff. They could have had a stellar weekend. But he just kept his mouth shut and took her back to her bike when she demanded it. That was the first time he should have told the truth to her and didn’t. 

He went to that party himself, without her. It hadn’t exactly been fun, but it’d been easy. Get hammered, get fucked up, stop feeling so fucking angry. 

When he’d got home, purple under his eyes, Solowit had just been leaving. 

“Hey, sorry about your dog.” 

He openly sneered at her, “Fuck off, Solowit.” 

“Hey!” his dad had barked from the doorway, “Don’t swear at her.” 

“Fuck you too!” he said. He was worn wire thin. 

“What the hell’s the matter with you?” His dad asked. It was half exclamation, half concern. 

He lost it and shoved his dad in the chest. It didn’t do much, knocked him back against the door jamb, but he fled anyway, toward the stairs. “Fuck both of you!” He shouted backward. Tears over his dog coming back fresh. His head hurt from the weekend, his whole body was unwholesomely sore. It felt like she’d killed Rex herself. 

“You want me to go, Jake?” She asked. 

Hearing her call him Jake cut through the last vestiges of Erik’s self control. He slammed the door to his bedroom so hard a picture that was hanging on the wall fell off and shattered. It was so much worse in his room. Somebody had put Rex’s collar on the foot of his bed. He ripped the lamp off his desk and threw it with all of his considerable strength against the wall. 

It shattered, denting the wall. He yelled at the top of his lungs and threw himself onto the bed. As soon as he touched the covers all of the energy sapped out of him. He laid there for half an hour, until there was a knock on the door. 

“Yeah?” He said into his pillow. 

His dad came in, “Erik, what the hell?” 

“What?” 

“Look, I’m sorry about your dog, but you can’t lose it like that.” 

“Fuck off.” 

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “Do you really hate her that much?” 

“Leave me alone.” 

“....Ok, kid.” 

____________________________________

Horror. Terrible gut eating horror churned in his stomach. He’d been sick with it. Delirious with it. Cried himself to sleep over it. Been so out of it he’d sent his dad and Solowit off camping without him. His dad had acted like it was a betrayal, but he’d been the one to ruin the trip first. 

Anna came over shortly after they left. She was so happy when she got there. He had to tell her. He had to tell her. He had to tell her. He thought he was going to puke. 

She’d been gone. She’d left on a trip to Europe with Kearns for a month and a half. He hadn’t meant to. Solowit had been around the house for three days and he couldn’t stand it. His skin had itched and he’d near enough to run off. He’d gone to a party. He’d drunk too much. There was this girl there. She’d sat there leaning on him and she’d just started telling him everything about her fucking life. She was drunk too. 

Then he’d said, “My dad has a new girlfriend.” 

“Is she a total fucking bitch?” 

She wasn’t. Sober, Erik never would have said she was. He never would have said she was to Anna either, who knew her. He couldn’t say that to his dad, even if he just wanted to say it and didn’t mean it. “Yeah,” he said with not a little satisfaction, “Total fucking bitch.” 

She’d looked up at him, “I hate it when my dad dates, fuck them, right?” 

And he’d kissed her. He’d kissed her. 

He had to tell Anna. 

“Erik?” she said when she got a good look at him, “Are you okay?” 

“No,” he said.

She moved toward him, to comfort him. To comfort him. He stepped back and said before he could lose the nerve, “I cheated on you, Anna.” 

She reeled back, “What? You….Erik?” Her voice was tiny, breaking. He saw tears in her eyes. 

He wanted to tell her that there were extenuating circumstances. But fucking were there? He’d still kissed another girl. He kept his mouth shut. 

“..You...when?” tears slipped down her cheeks and it took every single ounce of his self restraint not to wipe them away. 

“...When you were in Europe.” 

She sounded a single sob and he nearly broke and pleaded with her. But he didn’t. He knew what his dad had taught him. Men don’t cheat. Men take their lumps when they deserve them. Hadn’t he fucked this up enough. Who gave a shit if he needed her? Wasn’t it worse that he really thought he loved her? So he kept his mouth shut. 

He thought she’d hit him, or get really Warthrop about it, shouting at him and calling him names. But it was so much worse. She became tiny. Her shoulders curved in, her feet unsure and making little steps. Her eyes darted everywhere but him. She shook. 

“I’m sorry, Anna.” 

She didn’t have some snappy rejoinder. She scooped up her jacket and slid out the door. She got onto her bike and she left. 

Erik screamed. He sobbed. He crashed blindly upstairs and threw himself onto the bed. He cried into his pillow and in his empty house with Anna gone for good he felt crushingly alone.


	27. Study Buddy

The thing about the student union was that it was always busy. Even late at night when the coffee shop was closed and the cheap student fast food in the basement was shut down it was full of noise and sound. Enough people moving around and talking that it made a pleasant buzz of indistinguishable noise. 

Erik Torrence spent most of his afternoons in the student union, broad body lopsided in an armchair with his feet up on a table. It was his favorite place to study. For the last four years he had spent innumerable hours there, munching fries and studying. But something was off today. He was in his usual spot, coffee instead of fries, since it was still only nine in the morning. His biology textbook was open on his lap, notebook on the chair’s swiveling halfdesk. 

He’d done exactly this every Thursday morning since the semester, his last, had begun. But this morning the makeup of the union was getting under his skin. The student council had chosen this morning to reveal the band that would be coming for the annual Spring Jam. They’d painted it on butcher paper and were all set up to drop it down and reveal the artist to the sea of freshmen who had turned out for the occasion. 

Had Erik been that annoying when he was a freshman? For the first time, also, he felt a churn of bored irritation at the thought of the Spring Jam. He’d always gone, and he’d had fun the last three times. But for God’s sake they were all so small and whiney. 

He glanced up at the cheering crowd and two freshmen girls who undoubtedly recognized him from football gave him coy smiles and fluttered their eyelashes. He looked firmly back down at his textbooks. It wasn’t that he wasn’t flattered, nor that he wasn’t interested in dating. But freshmen girls just seemed so...young. 

They dropped the banner and a cry went up that was so loud Erik shut his eyes against it. He stood up, dropped his books into his bag and left. He checked his phone on the way out, still two hours before his next class, he’d have to find a different place to hole up. On impulse he turned and headed into the library. It was close to his next class and would be, he assumed, filled with less shouting than the student union.

He had been into the library of course, they’d taken him on a tour of it when he was a freshman, but he’d never really had a reason to go. He never studied there and he’d always been able to use online papers for any research assignment he’d had to do. He hunted down a table in the back and set up shop. 

It took him twenty minutes to regret not bringing headphones. Usually he hated listening to music while he studied, but unlike the student union the library was not a cozy cocoon of white noise. It was just quiet enough that he could hear every little noise, but there were noises. A girl a few tables away who kept sniffling, the occasional opening and shutting of a door, shuffling footsteps, and the most irritating goddamn squeaking he’d ever heard. It took him a few minutes to identify the source of it. A book cart that was being pushed steadily through the stacks. It had a wobbly wheel that screeched every time it was pushed. 

It was driving him to distraction. 

Annoyed, he looked back down at his book, flipping his pen in his fingers. He reread the last paragraph but by the time he was finished with it he realized he’d just been listening to that squeaking and hadn’t understood anything of what he was reading. There was a shelf separating him and the cart but he could see what the problem was. A wheel was attached through a bolt with a nut. But the nut had come nearly unscrewed so the whole wheel wobbled whenever the cart was pushed. 

He swore softly under his breath and dug out the swiss army knife his dad had gotten him when he’d gone off the school from his bag. He got up and circled the shelf to the book truck. 

“I’m going to fix that wheel,” he said by way of greeting. 

“Excuse me?” Said the girl who was shelving. She blinked at him through her large framed plastic glasses. 

“The wheel on your cart,” he said, “I’m going to fix it before it drives me nuts.” He flashed the tool in his hand. 

“Oh,” she said, “It’s been squeaking for weeks, it’s not like I don’t know how to fix it. I just keep forgetting the right tool.” She brushed back her chin length dark hair and looked down into her bulky knit scarf. 

Erik grinned, “Well, I’ve got just the thing. May I?” 

She seemed very taken aback, “Sure, be my guest.” 

He knelt down by the wheel. He set his shoulder against the handle of the book truck and lifted it about an inch off the ground. He righted the wheel and tightened down the nut. It all took about five seconds. He stood up, flipped the swiss army knife back into his pocket and grinned at her again. 

“Thank you,” she said, she gave him a shy smile. 

His grin widened a little when hers revealed dimples to go with the smattering of freckles across her nose. “You got a name?” He asked.

Pink spread just a little over her cheeks and she said in her soft voice, “Yes. Penelope. I’m Penelope Maine.” 

He didn’t try to be conceited, but most people on campus knew who he was. He’d been sort of a big deal on the football team for the last four years. But she was looking at him expectantly, so with a little bit of a delay he said, “Erik Torrance.” 

“Ok, I’ve...I’ve got some shelving to do so…” she looked down at her books, “So...thanks for the cart.” 

“Oh,” he said stepping back, “Yeah sure, not a problem. I’ll let you get back to work.” He retreated back to his table and his homework, the squeaky wheel no longer stealing his attention. 

____________________________

 

After that morning he’d returned to his habit of studying in the student union. They didn’t let you have food in the library and he liked to eat while he worked. But he found himself back there not two weeks later. One of his professors had assigned them to buy a three hundred dollar textbook. Being a savvy senior he had skipped picking it up until he could get into the class and check out how much he’d need it. As it turned out, they were going to be reading exactly only chapter of it all semester and a quick jaunt on the internet told him the library had a copy. So as long as he could get to it before the seven or so other seniors in the class smart enough not to buy it, he’d save himself three hundred dollars. 

So he was at the door at six thirty in the morning, the second that the bleary eyed student worker opened the door. He’d written down the call number from the internet the night before, now he just had to get his hands on it. 

He got to the stacks and stopped. It was six thirty in the morning and his brain was still at about half mast, and he’d never book one for libraries, and the library was big. He didn’t even know where to start looking for this book. He wandered up and down the shelves looking at the tags on the sides, hoping to see something familiar. He didn’t. 

He got all the way to the end of the row of shelves, intending to go up to the desk and wait in line to ask for help when he stumbled upon quite a scene. 

One of the big metal shelves had been knocked over, all of its books in a kerfuffle on the ground. Luckily it had been a shelf on the end and it had fallen away from its fellows. The whole thing was on its belly, flat on the floor. 

“Shit,” he said in surprise. 

In front of him, having been staring at the mess, the library worker, Penelope Maine spun around. Her skirt whipped around her leggings rather prettily when she did. 

“Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” 

For some reason she was holding a thin yellow rope and had her face set in determination. 

Looking quite put upon she said, “Can I help you with something?” 

“Whacha doing with the rope?” 

“What?” she said, “Oh,” she went a little pink again, “Well...I just...maintenance said they couldn’t come until tomorrow. I thought...if I could put the rope around the rafters I could….pull the shelf up…” 

Erik raised his eyebrows, “That sounds...I can help if you want.” 

She frowned a little, “How?” 

Erik shrugged, “I was going to lift it back up.” 

“With what?” 

He smiled at her, “My arms. You mind?” 

She blinked in surprise, “Oh, don’t hurt yourself.” 

He walked over to the shelf but turned back before he lifted it, “You gotta help me with something though.” 

A tiny frown, “What?” She looked down at her little brown oxford shoes. 

He handed her the slip of paper, “Can you find this for me? I’m totally lost.” 

“Oh!” she said, brightening, “Alright. Give me just a sec.” And she flitted off. 

Erik turned back to the shelf. It wasn’t very heavy without the books and he tilted it back up pretty easily, shoving the base until it lined up with the carpet marks. He had it just lined up when she came back, book clutched in her hands. 

“This book has a wait list you know,” she said. Then she looked at the shelf, “Oh, oh wow. You really. Thank you. Um-”

“Erik,” he reminded her, “You’re Penelope right? Penelope Maine.” 

Her blush came back, to Erik’s delight, and she nodded. She bit her lower lip and glanced around slyly, “Can you have the book back by tomorrow?” 

“Sure,” he said. 

She inhaled, looking like she was building herself up for something, “If you help me put the books back on the high shelf I’ll override the waitlist and let you take the book first.” 

He smiled, “You got a deal, Pen.” 

She handed him the book with a little smirk. 

“You’re just going to give it up?” he asked playfully, “I could take it and skip helping.” 

“Is that what you’re going to do?” Her hair was curled today and looked very cute. 

“Course not,” he winked at her, “Why don’t you stack ‘em up in order and I’ll put them on the shelf for you.” 

It took about a half an hour, but Erik had to admit he enjoyed it. She was quiet the whole time, just sliding him five or so books at a time to take over to the shelves. He felt half a swoop of disappointment when he’d put the last books back. He’d done more than he’d promised, she’d asked him just to help with the top shelf where she couldn’t reach without a stool. But he’d stayed to do all of it for her, letting her stick with her rhythm of organizing. 

When he’d put away the last stack he beamed at her, “So, boss, can I kidnap the book?” 

Quietly she smiled, “I supposed you’ve earned it.” 

Nerve had never been something Erik had lacked, he smiled and said, “You wanna get coffee with me, Pen?” 

She blinked rapidly and looked at her shoes then back up at him, blush on her cheeks. She pushed her hair back behind her ear and Erik saw that she had little owl earrings. She looked up at him, bit her lip and nodded. 

“Great,” he said, “Friday work? Around five?”

“Ok,” she said. 

“See you, Pen.” 

________________________________________________

On Friday he took her to a quirky little coffee shop that he’d always thought was a little pretentious but thought she’d like. He sprawled out of the spindly little seat, coffee in one large hand. He’d worn the henley shirt that he always thought made his muscles look particularly sexy and his good jeans. 

With the tattoo on his forearm entirely in evidence and the one on his chest poking up from the hem of his collar, he looked entirely her opposite. She had a periwinkle blue collar sticking out of an ivory sweater which looked, in Erik’s opinion, incredibly adorable with her little flouncy skirt. 

He started out a little uninspired, “So, what’s your major?” 

She smiled over her cappuccino and said, “Double major. Library science and French literature.” 

“Do you know French?” He didn’t know if that was a stupid question or not.

“Yes,” she said, “But I’m better at reading it than speaking it.” 

He winked at her, “Bet you’re a straight A nerd, huh?” 

She didn’t answer that, just sipped her drink and said, “So what are you majoring in?” Her eyes flickered to both of his visible tattoos.   
“Biology.” 

She looked surprised, “Oh, OH.” Then she blinked in embarrassment.

“What?” he asked, “You looked surprised.” 

“Oh, I just… you look like a business or….communications major.” 

“Is this your game?” he asked with a grin, “You let a guy buy you coffee then you make fun of him.” 

She blushed and stuttered, “I- I didn’t mean it as-”

“I’ve met comm majors, Pen, yeah you did.” 

She gave in and laughed, “Sorry.”

“You’d better be, Pen,” he jokingly chided, “Or I won’t take you out again.” 

She smiled and said very softly, “Then I really am sorry.” 

This made Erik grin a little foolishly. 

After their coffee Erik stood and said, “You...you wanna go for a walk or something?” 

She nodded happily.

Erik had always been tall and, walking next to him, she only came up to about his shoulder. While they walked she shivered in the brink spring air and, feeling like a gentleman, Erik gave her the leather jacket he had been holding, far from chilly himself. She didn’t talk much but Erik found that he enjoyed walking around the park with her, chatter or no. 

The last date he’d been on had been to a basketball game with a junior named Karen. She’d been nice, he’d had a good time. Before that with a girl Jackie who he’d taken to a bar. She’d been great too. He didn’t actually think he’d ever been on a date this quiet, just coffee and walking in a park. But he liked it, even if before he’d gone he’d thought he’d do it just because it seemed like something Penelope would like. 

Now that he’d thought about it the quiet had always been one of his favorite parts of camping. Sure he and his dad made plenty of noise, rambunctious and adventurous as they were. But he liked in the morning when the air was cold and nothing made a sound. 

“So,” he said, “Do you have any pets or anything?”

“Yes,” she said, “I live on my own in a little studio, I’ve got a cat. His name is D'artagnan. You know, after Dumas’ musketeer.” 

“Huh,” he said, “Always thought it was pronounced Dumbass.” 

She looked up at him with eyes mixed with scandal and incredulity. When he winked at her she gasped and pushed him playfully, “You’re messing with me.” 

“Been known to happen.” Happily he dropped his arm over her shoulder. 

“So what about you? Any pets?” 

“Yeah,” he said, “I got a pig named Pancake.” 

“A- a pig? Did you say pig? Like a little one?” 

“No, she’s a brute. Got her off this girl who thought she bought a tea cup pig, you know the tiny ones, then found out she was gonna get really big.” 

“So she gave it to you?” 

“She gave _her_ to me. She’s a lady pig, and no, I bought her. But the girl was gonna have her put down, what the hell else was I supposed to do? So now I’ve got a pig.” 

Penelope was smiling softly, “Did you name her Pancake or her first owner?” 

“Oh, that was me, Pancake loves pancakes.” 

Without warning she spun toward him, stretched up onto her tip toes, pulled him down by the shirt and kissed him. Butterflies exploded in his stomach and, after his initial surprise, a helpless grin stretched over his face. 

She jumped back, “Oh gosh, sorry. You were just so-” She twisted her hands together. 

Still grinning like an idiot, he bent down and kissed her again, his hand on her cheek. When he drew back, her face was quite pink.

_________________________________________________________________

After their coffee date Erik permanently changed his study spot into the library. He made sort of a routine of it, and he started studying far more than he ever had before. Not that he’d been unstudious. If he wanted to be a Monstrumologist after all, he’d have to get into grad school. But she had a morning shift as a student library worker, so he got there pretty much every day right when the opened with his books and two coffees, one of which he’d leave at her station, since usually she was too busy to greet him. 

It was an odd thing. She must have told her coworkers about him, since they all waved at him now whenever they saw him. To be honest, hoping to impress her, he tried really hard to be friendly to all of them. He didn’t know what it was about the library but it seemed to be staffed almost entirely by girls, and the three full time librarians were all women. This too, made for a weird dynamic. After the shelf incident and when he started spending so much of his time in the library they started using him as muscle. He didn’t mind, he thought it was sort of funny. 

They got these big crates of books every Monday from other libraries that sent books around and he had taken to slipping behind the desk on Monday mornings, with Pen’s permission of course, and hauling the crates onto a rolling book truck that was easier for the girl’s to manage. Not that they hadn’t done fine on their own without him. But it was markedly easier for him to lug it around then hundred and thirty pound girls and sixty year old women. 

The eldest librarian, a woman at least in her eighties by the name of Ms. Hestia Bowen had started calling him Odysseus, which he didn’t really get but made Penelope blush. 

Without really noticing he stopped asking out other girls and, although they had very few official dates, started spending a lot of time with Penelope. 

They did what he’d always considered a ploy to ask someone out without any risk and done homework together. Except instead of flirting and slacking off, they worked silently alongside each other. He’d never expected to like spending that much quiet time together. But he really did. When they did it at one of their two places she drank endless cups of tea and he sipped whiskey, a habit he’d picked up from his father. 

They were doing this, sitting in her apartment this time, him polishing up a lab report and her working her way through an essay and he’d looked up at her. Her hair was tied back in a tiny messy bun out of her eyes and she was biting her bottom lip, rereading what she’d just typed out on her laptop. 

Then he’d just said it, “Be my girlfriend.” 

She’d looked up at him with a small start and blushed, then with the tiniest of smiles nodded, “You do get along with my cat well enough I guess.” 

Erik beamed and pet D'artagnan who was curled up in his lap. 

He leaned back in his chair and stretched, wide grin stretched over his face then, looking around he said, “You’ve got to get some bookshelves, Pen, this is ridiculous.” 

“Oh hush,” she chided, sipping her tea. 

She had piles of books everywhere, he was told there was a system but he didn’t see it. Her apartment was an odd amalgam of real furniture rather than broken college furniture, packed into a too small space. But the books were everywhere. Her school books with little peeling yellow ‘Used’ stickers, some French language books, but then some of everything else. He had found, the other day, a pile of ornithology books that was hidden under a stack of Shakespeare. Somewhere on her almost unusable kitchen table was a box of early feminist literature that was heavily used and stuck with post its. 

“You know,” he said, “I’ll have to break your heart, you can’t meet my parents on Parent’s Weekend, my dad’s not coming up.” 

She didn’t look up right away but her fingers went still on the keyboard, “Are you disappointed?” 

“Not really, “ He laughed, “My dad and his girl haven’t come up for that since I was a freshman, I usually go back to Boston to see him. Yours coming?” He tried not to sound intimidated, but parents always freaked him out a little.

“Oh no,” she said, “They um, my parents died two years ago.” 

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, Pen.” 

“It’s alright, Erik, but thank you.” 

Feeling like he was going out on a limb he said, “Maybe we should get out of here for that weekend then, save us from the freshman onslaught.” 

“What were you thinking?” She asked. Her voice was soft but not unreceptive. 

“You like camping?” 

She brightened, “Oh I love camping. I haven’t gone since I was a little girl! Are you going to take me camping?” 

He positively beamed, “Yeah, I absolutely am, Pen. I thought-” he struggled feeling sappy, “Thought you could bring some books or whatever, we could just hang out, I’ve got a tent and everything.” 

She pulled him forward across the table and kissed him, “I would love to go camping with you.” 

A little stunned like he always was when she kissed him, and heart palpitating that she liked camping he said, “Shit, Pen, I’d take you every weekend if you wanted.” 

“Settle down,” she chided playfully. 

He grinned and kissed her again, “Dunno if I can, Pen.”


	28. The Madness of Grief

Cas wiped her paint smeared hands on her smock and picked up the phone the last ring before it went over to voicemail.

“Anna!” she said happily, “You said you could not be calling until three days from now and here you surprise me. My sweet wife, how did you get so sweet?” 

“Hey, Cassy,” Anna said, “I didn’t have the self restraint, wanted to hear your voice, say something nice to me.” 

“You do not sound good, Anna, are you ill?” 

“Nah, nah, I’m alright, cold is all. But that wasn’t that nice.” 

“Yes, you can have what you want, you are my most beautiful, yes? My muse and my heart, this is nice enough I think.” 

“Yeah, that’s nice enough.” Anna pause for a long time then in a tight voice said, “Tell me about your day, Cas. The whole thing, what did you eat, when did you wake up, every detail.” 

“Why do you want to hear such boring things?” 

“S’not boring, if it’s about you. I miss you is all. Just tell me. What’d you do for lunch?” 

Cas laughed into the phone, “I am not exciting, Anna, I had a sandwich with ham that I think was a little old, the kind you buy and you have been gone so long. But there was still soup left that I made that was good.”

“Oh you made that soup while I was gone? You’re a witch, you know I love it. When did you wake up? Tell me every little thing.” 

“You scoundrel, do you want me to tell you how beautiful I looked waking up?” 

“Yeah, even though I know already.” 

“I wore the pajamas you bought me, the small ones you like that you cannot keep your hands off when I wear them. I left the curtains open and the sun danced upon my skin, is that what you want to hear?” 

“Yeah, Cassy. I bet you looked like a goddess.” Another long pause, “Hey, hey I gotta go. Tell me you love me.” 

“I love you, Anna.” 

“Tell me again.” 

“I love you, Anna, my heart is yours, the whole thing.” 

“I love you too, Cassy Baby. So damn much. More than I can stand. Bye Cassy.” 

“Talk to you so soon, Anna.” 

Cas had nearly hung up when she said, “One more time, Cassy?” 

“Anna, is there something wrong?” 

“Please, Cas? God I love you. More than I ever thought anybody could love somebody. Can you tell me one more time, please?” 

“Anna, my Anna, I love you. I love you.” Cas could feel the vibration through the phone of something unwell and gave up without fight what Anna wanted, “Until the moon falls out of the sky, Anna, I love you.” 

“Cas.” Anna hung up. 

In a few hours and across hundreds of miles, across the Atlantic Ocean, dinner was starting the kitchen of Harrington Lane. 

Jack watched with smugness as Pellinore dug into it, loading his plate with nearly half of Jack’s famous hotdish. 

“Leave some for the rest of us, Dr. Warthrop,” Will said. 

Warthrop glowered at him, “If you would visit us with more frequency, Will Henry, I would not forget.” 

The now grown Will rolled his eyes and snagged the serving spoon from his old master, dishing up hotdish for himself and his small daughter whom he had brought with him. 

“Docca Gampa likes hotdish,” Little El said happily. 

“Yes, he does,” Pellinore said, spreading his out across his entire plate that it might cool to an edible temperature sooner. 

Interrupting their meal, the phone rang. 

“Leave it,” Jack said, “We’re eating.” 

Pellinore stood up, “Nonsense, John. I am expecting a call from the Smithsonian. If it is not from them I shall allow the machine get it.” He stood up and went to the phone, peering down at the small screen on its face, “Ah!”

“Is it the Smithsonian?” Jack called. 

“No!” Pellinore responded, “Interpol, it is Annalee.” 

Will looked up, “Pick up, Dr. Warthrop, we’ll all say hi.”

Dr. Warthrop picked up the receiver and held it to his ear, “This is Dr. Warthrop.” 

Jack and Will’s watched the look of restrained joy slip off of Warthrop’s face. He stiffened, his face becoming icy and impossible to read. 

“Thank you.” He said finally. “Yes, that address is correct. You may...you may send...h- it here.” He hung up. 

In deliberate movements he returned to his seat. 

“Pellinore?” Jack asked. His voice labored through the name, the clawing knowledge hampering his speech. 

“Doctor?” 

Dr. Warthrop cleared his throat, “Annalee -” he cleared his throat once more and tried again, “Annalee has fallen victim to the dangers of her profession. She.... she died in an ambulance on the way to a hospital in Bolivia. Gunshot wound to the stomach. Anna’s dead. She’s dead.” 

Neither Jack nor Will moved, the information taking time to sift through them until anything reactive could be done. For terrible minutes silence rampaged through the kitchen, even small El having been chilled into quiet by the solemnity of her father and grandfathers. 

And then Warthop howled. He stood in a magnificent arch and displaying wrath so terrible as Will had not seen since they starved in the Canadian wilderness, he wrenched the table, lifting it from underneath a thrashing of his entire length to send it smashing away from him in a cacophony. Over the smashing of the flatware that shattered upon the wall and the bassline crash of the heavy wood cracking against the hard wood of the floor Warthrop’s inhuman screeching echoed through the kitchen. 

Will, instinctively, seized El and leapt back, holding her to his chest. 

Jack stood, leaping back as well, “Pellinore!” 

In a violent instant Pellinore condensed into a stiff icy thing, straightening his shoulders and clasping his hands behind his back, other than the wall splattered with hotdish and the upended table, the incident might not have happened. The entire room was heavy with the weight of his explosion. El cowered on Will’s shoulder. Will and Jack watched him cautiously. 

In a cool and collected voice he said, “Interpol, with whom she was working at the time of her demise, will send her body here as per her request to be interred in her own country. She will, of course, be laid to rest in the Warthrop mausoleum with the rest of her family. They anticipate the arrival of her remains in five days. We shall make funeral arrangements for the following Saturday.” 

He turned to retreat into his basement, more a flight than a dignified exit. But there was no call for Warthrop to be dignified on the news of his daughter’s death. 

Will held out El to Jack, “Can you take her for a minute, Dr. Kearns? I should call Cas.” 

Jack took the girl, his face set stiffly, and Will moved to pluck the wireless phone from the wreckage of the kitchen. Warthrop, not quite disappeared into the basement swivelled, hatred cut into his face as though it were carved of maleficent stone. 

“Why would you call that streetwalker?” He snarled more than said. 

“Dr. Warthrop,” Will said, attempting softness, “Cas is - was Anna’s wife. We should make arrangements with her to come here if the funeral will be here. I’m sure she’s heartbroken.” 

Warthrop’s shoulders heaved, his dark eyes pits, “She would not have been a hunting bounties if that godforsaken backwater were it not for-” his eyes swiveled to Jack who flinched. The easy answer would be ‘were it not for John Kearns, who taught her the trade, in whose footsteps she had so eagerly followed.’ But Warthrop had ever been prone more to rationalization than rationale in times of grief. If he were to place blame and hatred in a still living person it would not be his beloved Jack but the woman for whom he had long held distaste. So he did not end his sentence blaming his partner but with “were it not for that Polish whore who kept her over there!” 

Will warned, “Warthop,” in a vicious growl, but Jack said nothing. Guilt was thick in his heart but nothing could be done to help Anna. He could not also lose Pellinore. Even if Casimir had to be an unfortunate casualty. It is not like she and Pellinore ever shared any sort of tenderness. 

“I’m calling, Cas,” Will said with finality, “She can stay with me.” 

__________________________________________________________________________  
Jack did not move from where he was. Will had left hours ago and Pellinore had been in his basement. Jack had been here. He had felt exhausted, too tired to stay on his feet. Utterly drained. At nine o’clock he had taken himself upstairs and divested himself of most of his clothing to lie atop the covers. Then all hints of tiredness had fled and he could not find sleep. 

His stomach convulsed and what might have been tears in a different man shuddered through his body. His breath came short. Rather than cry he glared at the ceiling, curling and uncurling his fists, his toes clenching and unrolling. Again, his stomach rippled in contained emotion. 

_“And whatever do we have here?” Jack Kearns asked with a raised eyebrow, looking up at the dark haired young teenage girl who stared down at him where he crouched to pick the lock on the front door._

_“You’re picking the lock,” She said matter of factly, gesturing to the lockpick in his hand._

_He had been. He stood, now at his full height and towering over her. He gave her an overcharmed smile. Will had been surprise enough, but his stomach was going rigid as it had when he had met the boy. But she was different, those sharp cheekbones and dark eyes. She was Pellinore._

_“Well now that I have been so graciously let in there is no need to.” He beamed at her._

_She didn’t answer him. She was looking at him with what came close to awe._

_He detected, with a small note of curiosity, a knife in her boot. She was dressed quite as Will had been when he had first been taken in, in clothes too large for her small frame. Her hair was jaggedly cut. He had, of course, been told who she was. Pellinore had called and asked him to come. But knowing that he had acquired his progeny and seeing it before his eyes were different things._

_He stepped inside and she let him, following his path into the kitchen._

_Sitting in silence across from him he, to his own irritation, felt a burgeoning pity. He who was par excellence at detecting motivation had sussed out hers immediately, although her tension against omnipresent threat was uncomfortably close to home. She was so astoundingly, horrifically transparent to him. Pellinore had said that she broke his things, tore the house apart. He had had no idea what to make of it, but Jack knew._

_‘You haven’t struck yet, but you will. How far do I have to push you?’ For if it was her that got him to stop playing nice it would not come as a surprise. How was it Pellinore didn’t see she was only trying to bring the fight to her? Well, Pellinore did not operate like that. Jack did, albeit with more finesse than that of a frightened child._

_He had never told Pellinore about his trip with her, that very first day they had met. Most of it had been mundane, picking out clothing for her. Funny, a little, it had taken her quite a while tell him what she wanted and not simply agree that whatever he chose was fine. It had been befuddling important to him that she choose her own wardrobe._

_But he’d taken her to get something to eat before they’d headed back. He didn’t know what made him say it aloud, but there she was, back turned to him, hands stuffed in her new pockets and he’d said, “You are not afraid of me.”_

_How could someone be afraid of Pellinore Warthrop and not him?_

_She’d turned and looked at him with eyes that were like Pellinore’s but more feral, “Why would I be scared of you?”_

_He shrugged, “You did say yourself that I looked as though I had killed people.”_

_“Yeah,” she said, “You do. You said you had.”_

_“I have.”_

_“I dunno, I think if you were going to kill me you’d just kill me. That’s not that scary.”_

Jack summed in his mind the image of her as he’d met her, undersized and thirteen. Much more than Will she had made him feel like a father. She’d looked at him with that mangled combination of awe and love and abject trust. She would never look at him again. Why would he teach that little girl how to hunt criminals? Why had he not made her do something else? Teach English or wait tables or study microbes? He thought of her on her motorbike, skimming the asphalt behind him every summer since she turned eighteen, his bright eyed protege. Too rash. Too impulsive. How had he been proud? What had he done?

He heard Pellinore coming up the stairs and his body went rigid. How long would it take Pellinore to realize that if anyone had murdered his daughter it had been Jack. 

Pellinore opened the door and slid into the room. Without word he removed his lab coat, hung it on a peg in the closet. Unbuttoned his shirt and laid it in the laundry. Slid off his shoes and his pants. Folded his pants, still clean enough to rewear, over the back of a chair. Tucked his shoes where they belonged. Rolled off his socks and put them too in the laundry. Then the came to the bed and laid down. 

He lay next to Jack, neither of them touching, both looking up at the ceiling. Ten minutes, twenty, passed in absolute quiet. Then Pellinore said, “John...have I ever told you the promise that I made with myself when I discovered Annalee?” 

Jack turned his head to look at his doctor, “No.” 

“I promised that I would be better than my own father. I would be better than Alistair.” 

“You were.” 

“....Yes...in the obvious...yes… I spoke to her. I did not send her away to school. I knew of her whereabouts. But.... she and I… I wanted…” 

“What did you want, Pellinore?” 

“I had always thought I would have the chance to tell her…” 

Jack didn’t press him further, let him, as Pellinore always had to, arrive on his own. 

Pellinore turned, his eyes looked exhausted, as stripped of energy as Jack felt. Uncharacteristically he curled himself up at Jack’s side, burying his face in his chest. Jack shifted to accommodate him. 

Jack waited. Waited for him to go one. Waited for him to reach the inevitable conclusion that Jack ought to be hated for putting his daughter in such terrible danger. Their daughter. Hadn’t he earned the right to call her his? She’d taken his name, the second that she could. 

Kearns-Warthrop. That was the name she would be buried under. Tears burned at his eyes. He had not asked her to. She’d called him ‘dad’ since she was fifteen. She’d taken his name. She had wanted to be his, desperately called out to be claimed. And he had felt like she was his. Like somehow, despite the lack of genetic similarities she had _been_ his. This was not supposed to be how it worked. He was not supposed to bury her. 

Why had he ever let her adopt him? 

“Jack, are you crying?” 

Pellinore had lifted himself up on his elbows to look at Jack. Tentatively he reached out and touched the tears on Jack’s cheeks. 

“Yes, Pellinore,” Jack said, “Our daughter is dead.” 

Pellinore whined and fell upon Jack, “Do not leave, Jack, please. Do not leave. Do not leave. I need you.” 

“I - I - Why would I leave?” 

From his chest, Pellinore looked at Jack again and Jack understood what would remain unsaid. ‘You taught her to be what she is.’ His eyes said without meaning to, ‘Isn’t your heart heavy with guilt?’ Jack shuddered. 

“I need you, Jack.” So I won’t condemn you, out of need. 

“I am here.” 

They slept on and off, not restfully but together, arms wound around each other, sobs intermittent. 

The phone rang in the morning, Pellinore remained unresponsive and Jack answered. 

“Yes?” 

“Dr. Kearns? It’s Will Henry.” 

“Yes, Will?” He was so tired.

“I’ve spoken with Interpol and with Cas. She’ll get in tomorrow, she’ll stay with me, I’ve arranged her ticket and I’ll be getting her from the airport. Tell- Tell Dr. Warthrop not to worry about it, I can arrange everything. I’ll be by later to get the photos she left in her room. The funeral home says we ought to set up displays.” 

“She has photos?” 

“Yeah, a couple boxes in her old room. I know where they are. If you have any you really like you should give them to me, for her display.” 

His voice seemed to come from many miles away, “You have already talked to the funeral home?” 

“Yes, I called them at noon.” 

“It...it isn’t noon yet.” 

“It’s nearly three in the afternoon Jack. I’ll be by soon. I’ll….I’ll bring something to eat alright.” 

Jack hung up and collapsed back in bed with the immovable Pellinore. 

How close had Will been that he was here so soon? He was coming up the stairs. Jack wanted to get up to greet him but he couldn’t. His legs were too heavy. He could not muster himself. 

Will came in, clean and in fresh clothing. He put tea on the nightstand and scones. Raspberry for Pellinore, chocolate chip for Kearns. He stared at them and stared at them. 

“I dislike chocolate chip scones,” he said bluntly. 

Will looked around. They must look a mess, undressed but for underthings, tangled in each other. 

“No you don’t, you always asked for them.” 

“I - “ He didn’t want to cry with Will here, but he was, “Anna liked them. Pellinore wouldn’t get them for her. He got them for me. Anna liked them.” 

_Stop crying._ he commanded himself. But he didn’t. Pellinore keened beside him. 

Will took the chocolate chip scones, “I’ll get you something else. I’m sorry, Dr. Kearns. I didn’t know.” He didn’t come back for a long time. When he did he had boxes in his hands, “I’m taking these pictures, alright? Doctor, could I have the one from your dresser?” 

A monster’s voice rumbled from the sheets, “If you divest me of that photograph, Will Henry, I will divest you of the skin that encases your pitiable bones.” 

Will didn’t explain that it would be returned, he just sighed, “Ok, Doctor. I’ll be back later to check on you. I brought dinners too, they are in the freezer.” 

____________________________________________________________________________

New Jerusalem had not seen such an influx of visitors in recent memory. As the child of one of the foremost in the field and well liked among them in her own right, nearly half of the Society were in attendance. Torrance, who had always been warm to both Warthrop and his fiery daughter, came with him his long time partner Dr. Solowit, who would have come on her own regardless. The frequency of chasing teenaged Anna out of where she did not belong during colloquialisms had endowed Solowit with fondness for the girl. The younger Torrance, now in his thirties, brought his own wife, Penny and their two boys. 

John Chanler, of course, had come with his family as well as Abram von Helrung who had taken up residence with the Chanlers in lieu of a nursing home. Abram had hardly stopped weeping since he heard the news. He spent great portions of the time between the announcement of her death and the funeral reliving Pellinore’s discovery of the girl, how young and afraid she had been. How upright and kind she had become. How good she had been for Pellinore, and particularly for Will. 

When John got to the wake he waited his turn to approach her casket, tears open on his face. “Hey, kiddo,” he said to her when he was at her side. He took out a baseball from his jacket pocket, “You left this at my place you know, when I was still in that apartment. You came up from home with Will to take me to a baseball game. You caught a homerun ball. God you looked like a regular kid when you did that. Went on about it all night.” His voice caught with tears but he kept on, “Who the hell is gonna call me Uncle Johnny now? I loved that. You started up on it just when everything was going ass up with Muriel. Was that a coincidence or did you figure I needed to get adopted into the family just then? Cuz I did. I’m sorry, kiddo.” 

He wrapped her chilled fingers over the baseball and slipped away from the casket. 

The Bates’ were also in attendance, Lilly and Anna had not been close as girls but they had warmed to each other considerably in adulthood. 

Even Hiram Walker made an ill fated appearance, although most agreed he more likely came to make jabs at Warthrop or a play for Anna’s beautiful widow as he did at nearly every colloquium. Walker made it exactly as far as the steps of the funeral home on the day of the visitation before Jack backed him down the stairs at gunpoint, his gait part leonine and part madman. 

“One single step, Sir Hiram, into that room, one single glance from Pellinore and you will find yourself with a bullet between your eyes.” Regularly, and Jack was a man who one could have a ‘regularly’ in regards to holding people at gunpoint, Jack’s terror came from his chilly calm. Frequently he came at victims with playfulness and cavalier jokes. Not now. His voice trembled and shook as he did. His eyes were wide and dilated. 

Walker had fled, of course, and Will raced out of the funeral home. 

“Dr. Kearns!” He had hissed, “I told you- god- I asked you a single thing! Dr. Kearns, I asked you not to bring your revolver.” 

“I thought I might need it.” 

“Give it to me,” Will ordered in a strained voice. His jaw clenched, “Now.” 

Like a petulant child, Jack handed over his revolver. 

“Your knife also, the one from your belt and the one from your boot.” 

Both were laid into Will hand. 

“Anything else?” Jack sneered. 

“No, Dr. Kearns,” Will said, his voice tired, “Go and be with Dr. Warthrop. Will you please?” 

Jack slunk passed him, leonine and shaking. 

 

Others had come too, people Pellinore and Jack did not know. Foreigners, both police and her fellow bounty hunters. A pair of Russian twins who thuggishly crossed their arms and spoke in nothing but their mother tongue. A troupe of Eastern European girls. Lights, of course, came teary eyed. 

Apart from Warthrop, who stood like a wraith in the corner, half hidden behind the set up of cardboard trifolds containing an display of pictures, documenting Anna’s life, it was a nearly cheery affair. She had been dear to many, but her loss was momentarily outweighed by the enjoyment of seeing friends rarely seen. 

This sense of subdued merriment was destroyed upon the entrance of the widow Casimir. By those who knew Anna through the Society, Cas had never been seen in anything short of breathtaking splendor. It seemed at each annual ball she could find a gown that would outdo that of the previous year. Her hair always set in perfect curls and glorious waves. Most of them, the men in particular, could remember that she always seemed to smell of cinnamon. Even those few who had seen her dressed down somewhat remembered how she made the casual outfits of a brunch into something to be remembered. This was, of course, the Casimir they expected to arrive. Beautiful in grief, bedecked in an ebony gown that would rend the heart. Perfect tears upon an unblemished face. But this was not the Cas who attended. 

She had been staying with Will who had gone early to set up the photos and memorabilia, to make sure everything was in the right place. Will left when the guests began to arrive to fetch her from his home and he arrived with her shortly thereafter. Her appearance shocked the guests who thought they would receive the Cas they knew. She smelled of a week’s unwashed body, her hair a wild witch’s tangle. Not even Will, highly practiced in the art of cajoling unwilling melancholics into showers, had been unable to convince her to become presentable. 

Will’s house has been a little dismayed while she had been there, he had gone so far as to send his family to stay with the Chanlers. Cas had only stopped screaming her grief when her throat was too ravaged to support the noise. Locked in an attic bedroom where she had fled the first night rather than the comfortable second floor room she had been given, she had sounded more like a ghoul than a woman. 

Lights, who had packed for her, had given her appropriate clothing, but somehow the dark silk blouse that ought to have made her radiant seemed to only enhance the horror of her appearance. Old makeup was streaked down her face and she snarled rabidly at any who approached to offer their condolences. 

If there had been any misgivings to the sincerity of Cas’ adoration for her wife, they were destroyed now. Whispers had always followed them, as they are wont to do when regarding women of particular beauty, of her unfaithfulness or readiness to replace her chosen partner should something befall her. The rumors that had attracted men such as Walker to her like flies to the scent of meat.

This was proven to be fallacy the very moment she came in, Will’s arm around her. About her shoulders it looked like a tarp holding in a hurricane. She broke free from his grasp instantaneously, flying to the side of the coffin, the top half of which was open and throwing herself across it with cries that cut through the idle chatter of the room. 

Will gave her a few minutes then began his approach to draw her away. He hesitated only a little, this would be the first time he saw the face of his sister set in death. How often had he been consoled by her? Or taken solace in her silent glance and rolled eyes at one of her father’s outbursts? She had been his constant confidante. He had never had a secret from her. First to call with good or terrible news. Now still in death. 

Last night, when the horrored screeches of Cas were in a fever pitch and Will had been wrenched from much needed sleep he, addled by exhaustion, had called her, instinctively seeking advice. 

‘Hello?’ Her voice had said. 

Realizing what he’d done but still not coherent enough to puzzle anything together he’d said, “Anna? Anna!” 

“Helloooo?”

“Anna?” Terrible pain curled up in his chest. 

“Heeeelllloooooo! HA! You missed me, leave your message after the beep.” 

Will let the phone sit on his cheek, wishing he’d called her work phone and gotten the professional: ‘This is Kearns-Warthrop, leave your name and number.’ The other message she’d made when she first got her family phone, at sixteen. She’d never updated either the phone or the message. Warthrop kept paying for it so that he would have an excuse to be upset with her if she didn’t answer, ‘I pay for this phone, young lady, if I am to do that then you will receive my calls without delay.’ 

When she’d made the message she’d thought it was the funniest thing she’d ever done. Now it seemed cruel. Will called again. 

But now, in the funeral home, he started toward Cas, who needed him more than his sister’s corpse did. 

He was beaten to her side by a middle aged woman, who spoke to her in a thickly accented English. 

“Mrs. Warthrop?” She asked tentatively, clearly not sure how to put together the correct name in the mess of surnames, nor how to address the female companion of a dead woman. 

Cas looked about, red eyes swollen, expression wild. Will was glad that Dr. Warthrop was across the room and had not heard Cas be so named. He would not have stood for it. He had not taken kindly to it when Cas had forgone her father’s surname for Kearns-Warthrop. There had been much talk of sullying the names. 

“Yes, yes,” Cas said, “Who are you, what do you want?” Her voice was rough with her torn throat and she sounded as much the witch as she looked. 

“Your- your wife, Kearns-Warthrop, I - I wanted to give you my thank you.” 

“Thank you?” Cas said, confusion and anger billowing in her shoulders. 

“It was my girl she saved, my little Lila.” 

“What?” Cas asked, and one could hear the rending of her heart in the singular syllable. 

A girl approached her mother, dark haired and dark eyed, no more than six. The room was silent to listen, “I was in the warehouse,” she said in better English than her mother, “I was in the warehouse when Anna came. She told me to call her Anna. They didn’t want me to get back to my papa.” 

Cas looked around at the watching crowd violently. Calling out in only her rampaging eyes for validation to the girl’s half developed story. A man stepped forward, dressed in a smart suit of utter black, his hair perfectly set.

“Madame Kearns-Warthrop,” he said in a French accent, and behind him Jack put a hand on Pellinore’s chest to keep him from charging forward, “The girl speaks truly. Ms. Warthrop entered the building prior to the arrival of her reinforcements only to secure the safety of the child. It is by her sacrifice alone that the child survived.” 

The entire room saw Cas’ hand, with jagged nails, fly to her mouth and the fresh tears shimmer in her eyes. They heard her call out, “My Anna, my brave bounty hunter, my lion in flesh of a woman!” And fall again upon the body of her lost wife. 

But only Will, who still looked at him, and Jack, who caught him, saw the knees go out from under Pellinore Warthrop and the haunted grief burn in his eyes. 

____________________________________________________________________________

Warthrop would not hear of the funeral itself being held in a church. Their view on the ridiculousness of religion had been one thing Anna and he had always agreed on without argument. Being a fine July day, it was held in the cemetery grounds, just outside the family mausoleum where she was to be inturred. Although the day was perfect, neither too hot nor too cold, Will felt it was far too sunny. 

Most of the crowd had already come to sit in the little white chairs provided by the funeral home. Dr. Kearns and Dr. Warthrop still lingered in the back. Will had only been away from them for a half a moment, going to the front to make sure the mic was set up for the eulogy speakers. He was on his way back to Warthrop’s side when what he had been dreading since the outset happened in cataclysmic drama. 

Jack, less diligent than Will, had allowed Cas and Warthrop to get too close to each other, something Will had been steadfastly preventing all week. Warthrop lost no time in saying something utterly Warthropian. 

His face cold and predatory, he snarled, “She would not be dead if it weren’t for you, you filthy european whore.” As cruel as he was capable of but not as refined nor as backhanded as he could be when in a better state. 

It was not the first time he had called her something to that effect, from their very first meeting he had made such insinuations. But she was no longer capable and lifting her chin and ignoring him. 

Jack’s back was turned. Will was too far away. Casimir launched herself at him, her clawlike fingernails bared with her teeth. 

Warthrop, grief having stripped him of much of his dignity, met her violent advance. Her first strike clawed across his cheek, leaving bleeding red makes down his face. They became a tumble and fists and teeth and fingernails, screeching inhuman howls. Jack whirred, seizing Warthrop from behind, arms lanced across his chest, pulling him back. 

Cas followed after him, clawing into the kicking and biting Warthrop as he was dragged back. Will seized her, as Jack had Warthrop and tore her away from Pellinore. He had to lift her from the ground to get her away and still she kicked and lashed at her dead wife’s father. 

“Cas,” Will said, trying to be gentle while tearing her bodily from his old master, “Cas, please stop. Cas!” 

But she was beyond words and beyond reason, grief manifesting in aggression, eyes wild, rolling in her eyes. 

He hefted her unceremoniously over his shoulder and walked her back to his car. He plunked her into the passenger seat and penned her in with his arms. 

“Casimir Kearns-Warthrop,” he said stiffly, “You have to settle down.” Feeling very patronizing, he used the voice he did when his three year old was having a fit. 

She curled up against the side of the seat. Her lip was split where Warthrop had hit her and he’d torn out some of her hair. She did not say a word but remained in the seat. He leaned against the car and gave watched the funeral attendees settle into their seats. Two spots were open at the front, one for him next to Kearns and one on the far left for her, as far from Warthrop as possible. 

“We have to go, Cas. Come on.” He got her up and took her arm, leading her to the front. He released her into her own chair then took his, between Dr. Kearns and John Chanler. 

There would be two speakers. Warthrop and Will. They’d asked Cas, of course, if she wanted to speak, but she was not up for the task. Wil wasn’t sure Warthrop was either, but he was incapable of forgoing public speaking. Kearns also, had declined. If he had things to say about her, he would say them to Will and Pellinore, not an audience. 

She would be carried in at the end. 

Warthrop stood, regal but for the sliced fingernail marks down his cheek. He approached the mic and cleared his throat. 

“Annalee Kearns-Warthrop will be laid to rest in the Warthrop’s familial mausoleum beside the remains of my father and my mother. It is, as I had always thought was obvious, where she belongs. She is - She was a Warthrop. She was not a scientist or a monstrumologist but, as has been made clear to me, her work was great. As I have gathered from discussions with her superiors, she was foremost among her colleagues. She had always told us she was a bounty hunter, but I have been so informed that in the last seven years she became a formal agent for Interpol and received a number of distinguishments for service.” He paused to look down and his next sentence was nearly lost, “She never told me.” 

He paused again and when he resumed it was in his short and clipped speaking he used for public addresses, “She- she devoted her life to abating the tide of aberrant behavior. I have been told by one of her colleagues that she once remarked that she wished she could be home more, but that sacrifices needed to be made for the work she considered so paramount. I would like to tell you that she reminds me of myself. But she does not. She reminds me, has always reminded me, in loyalty, even if that loyalty was rarely aimed at me, and in fortitude, or a once fine companion I also so interred into the earth, my once loyal assistant James Henry, a far greater compliment than any iteration of myself.” He stepped down from the small podium and returned to his seat, pressing his forehead to Jack Kearns’ shoulder. 

A tiny whine issued from Will’s throat but he stood regardless to make his statements. He was exhausted. The last week, for Will Henry had been neverending labor. At the wake it had been he who had made sure there was enough coffee, punch and cookies for everyone who would come. It was Will who had put out the guest book and the box for cards. It had been Will who had made sure it was suggested that donations be made in her honor to the New York City Foster System. It would be Will who would write out and send the hundreds of Thank You cards requisite after the services. Pellinore would never do it and Will’s loyalty not only to Warthrop but to the woman he had always counted as a sister was absolute. The last few days for Will Henry had been very busy. Warthrop was not up to the task of funeral arrangements and it fell to Will.

Tightness burned in Will’s throat and he restrained tears. He had shouldered everything else. He had gone to the coroner to identify the body when it had arrived and he had not wept. He had called the funeral home and he had not wept. He had scrounged through boxes in dusty corners of Warthrop’s house for photographs and he had not wept. He head pinned them to display boards, watching her in glossy photos grow from the angry thirteen year old who had joined their home to a rash and impulsive teenager who had never neglected to include her ersatz little brother. Will who had never been cared for since his parent’s deaths who she watched out for, who picked fights with his bullies and sat with him through broken hearts. The only one who knew what his favorite snacks were and his favorite flavors of gatorade were. He’d pinned up the picture of her at one of his baseball games and he hadn’t wept. The picture of her with her arm slung around him at his graduation and not wept. That’s how they always were in pictures of the two of them. Her arm haphazard over his shoulder, until the day he’d gotten taller than her and she’d switched to his waist. But she’d still, even a foot shorter than him, looked like some sort of guardian force. He’d looked at photos of him, best man at her wedding, and of her best woman at his and he had not wept. He’d kept Jack from shooting Walker, he’d torn apart Cas and Pellinore, kept everything moving and in the closest semblance of order as he could. 

And now it was his turn to speak about her. 

“Anna was my sister.” He began. His fingers shook on his notecards. He wanted to talk about her bringing him with to concerts she snuck out for. And about always always always buying him the snacks he wanted on road trips. About helping him with Warthrop’s work, or intercepting him so that Will could get a few minutes of sleep. He wanted to talk about how she could get him to tell him what he thought and how she always asked. And made her own tea. How she picked up coca-cola for the fridge when he forgot because Warthrop hadn’t put it on his list. He wanted to talk about how she called every year on his birthday and never forgot. He had really wanted to talk about how, when he was sixteen and so full of anger that no one else noticed she’d driven him to the countryside and they’d thrown rocks at trees. Told him about how sometimes she missed her mom so bad she almost threw up, even though she’d hated her mom. She’d let him cry, messily and unrestrained, over how bad it still hurt sometimes that his parents were dead. He’d wanted to talk about all of that. He had it written out on little cards so he would not forget. 

But all he managed was, “Anna was my sister.” And the dam that had restrained him since the phone call more than a week ago sundered and his shoulders shook, sobs amplified by the microphone. He gripped the sides of the pedestal and cried and could not stop.


	29. The Honeymoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Unlike the rest of the work, this chapter is rated M.

“Do you know how you look so beautiful sitting in the window like that?” Cas said. 

Anna turned and looked at her from where she was perched on the wide windowsill, “Is it me or the sun setting over an Italian ocean view?” 

Cas sauntered toward her, “It is you, foolish thing,” she tipped Anna’s head back with a slender finger upon her chin and leaned to kiss her, “Far more beautiful than the sunset.” 

Anna smiled gently, “You sap.” 

Cas gasped with mock indignation, and crossed back to their hotel bed, laying herself across the lavish coverlet, “I am allowed to be a sap on our honeymoon, I think.” 

Anna rose to join her and Cas let out a small, pleased noise to see the leonine way Anna always moved silhouetted against the sun. “Come here, bounty hunter,” she purred. 

Anna did, staring down at her in her silken robe that hung seductively loose over her body. She’d taken a bath and the smell of flowers rose off of her skin. Anna pulled her jacket off and hung it on a post of the bed. 

“Mmm,” Cas hummed, “Yes, my Anna, more like that, you wear too much, I think.” Her voice was low and husky. 

Anna grinned, “Whatever you say, _Mrs. Bounty Hunter._ ” She stripped to her underclothes, never having mastered the finesse of teasing her way out of clothes like Cas could. She slid onto the bed, crawling over Cas until she straddled her, fingers teasing at the edges of her robe, “So, how’s it feel, being an old married lady?” 

“I am your old married lady, yes? So I like it very much.”

Anna deftly untied the sinch of the robe and Cas lifted her shoulders obligingly that she might be freed from the soft fabric. Anna tossed it aside and Cas arched her back under Anna, displaying her bared skin, lips parted. 

Anna hummed in appreciation so low it was nearly a growl and ran the very tips of her fingers down Cas’ warm skin. 

Cas lifted her own hands and played her fingers upon the skin of Anna’s belly, sending shivers up and down her flesh, “Will you still make that noise for me when I am old and fat?” She asked, letting her hands stray to the inside of Anna’s thighs. 

Anna dropped forward, scraping her nails softly down Cas’ sides and kissing her neck, she kissed her way to the junction of her neck and jaw and suckled a patch of Cas’ neck that she knew to be particularly sensitive, beneath her, Cas gasped. 

Playfully, Anna said against Cas’ skin, “I mean, I _would_ make that noise every time I saw you, even if you were old and fat.” 

Cas wriggled under her, mewling as Anna’s nimble fingers teased her nipples, “You sound as if you are thinking,” she gasped, “You might not ever be seeing me - _mój Boże_ \- old and fat.” 

Anna had slid down Cas’ body, her lips and tongue replacing the work of her fingers, that they might venture lower still. Cas held her back only long enough to unhook her bra and pull it off of her shoulders. Anna, having been released, kissed a path down Cas’ belly, grazing her teeth softly on the apex of her thighs. She paused for a moment to look up at Cas, “You know I might not, Cas,” she whispered. 

Cas’ reply was immediate and sharp, “What is it that you mean with that?” 

Anna, lingering over Cas, breathing hotly against her most intimate flesh, said, “My job is dangerous, Casimir. I’d be surprised if I made it to forty.” 

Cas’ pulled her back up, face to face, then flipped her onto her back, eyes shining, she bore down, pinning Anna to the bed. Anna was a predator, leanly muscled, small breasts the only part of her flesh not bound in muscle or cut sharp with bone. She could have knocked Cas from her, had her helpless and contained in a brief burst of movement. But she lay beneath Cas as docile as a fawn, eyes wide and pitted in such sorrow as Cas had only seen in those nearly black irises. 

Cas had had a flaring desire for vindictive roughness, but as always, the sight of Anna made her want only to be gentle. Cas had been a beautiful child, her father had understood early the value of her unblemished. Anna had had no such protection against physical damages. Small circular burn scars were on her clavicle from extinguished cigarettes. A jagged cut on her side she had gotten in juvie the first time. Thin, evenly spaced scars on her ribs from when the horror of murdering her mother had overcome her fragile eleven year old constitution.

Anna had felt enough roughness, Cas could only ever bring herself to utmost tenderness. Cas rolled off of her and sat on the bed, leaning against the plush pillows and headboard, “Come.” 

She guided Anna in front of her, sitting with her back flush to Cas’ chest. 

“Lift your hips, Anna,” She whispered and slid her panties down her thighs until Anna was a bared as she was. She could not ask Anna to stop her hunting any more than one could ask a tiger to take out its teeth. She kissed Anna’s neck from behind, her practiced fingers diverging, one teasing at Anna’s thighs, the other on the oversensitive skin at her breast. 

“Anna,” she breathed, “Yes. Your work is so dangerous. I will have you as often as I can, I think. And I will follow after you, yes? You will wait on the other side for me?” She slid her fingers to the moisture between Anna’s thighs and Anna called out mutedly. 

“Cas,” she said, hips twitching, “I don’t believe in another side.” 

Cas moved her fingers so Anna groaned and dropped her head back on Cas’ shoulder. “But I am believing enough for us both, I think. Tell me you will wait for me.” 

Anna bit her lip to keep from shrieking under Cas’ flickering fingers, her chest heaving, “I’ll - I’ll wait for you, Cassy, you know it.” She turned her head to bite and kiss at Cas’ neck, hands groping backwards to cling to Cas’ hips. “What am I supposed to - shit Cas - what am I supposed to do if you bring - bring somebody else with you?” 

Cas pressed against her with her thumb and slid two fingers within her. Helplessly, Anna moved her hips with the pace of Cas’ hand. Cas bit gently at the shell of Anna’s ear and whispered into it, hot breath spreading gooseflesh down Anna’s throat, “Who else?” 

Anna tried her best to answer, her body shuddering and clenching around Cas’ fingers, “You- aah- the- “ she had to pause to keen rather loudly, “Whoever you find, after I’m - goddamit - in the dirt.” 

Anna arched her back against Cas and Cas groaned softly, watching her come undone, “There will be no one after you, Anna.” She said it with utter certainty and beneath her pressing thumb, rhythmatic fingers and the nails of her other hand that raked tenderly Anna cried out and fell into oblivion, her body quaking and stiffening. Cas kissed her shoulder and neck sweetly as she came down. 

When she’d regained control of her muscles Anna turned around, facing Cas. Her face flushed, still breathing hard she looked debauched. Her heavy gaze, pupils dilated and bottomless, captured Cas as they always did, made her feel like the navel of the world. The heady rush of being the center of Anna’s restless and untetherable soul came upon her and she pulled Anna forward, kissing her with abandon. 

Anna shifted her weight to better support herself and lifted Cas, laying her flat upon the bed, not releasing her from their kiss. 

Anna slid down Cas’ body, kissing each inch she passed. 

“Anna, you look at me like I am at the middle of everywhere you go.” 

Delicate fingers pressed Cas’ thighs wide and she lowered her head, tongue tracing what Cas had visited upon her with her fingers. Above her, Cas whined. 

Anna, flickering her tongue over where Cas was most sensitive paused and said, “You are, Casimir.” 

Unable to restrain herself, Cas wound her fingers in Anna’s short hair. Merely having this tiger in the flesh of a woman bent over her was almost enough for Cas. Anna, unceasing, looked up at Cas. For a moment Anna’s dark eyes appeared almost backlit. Cas looked upon the unwavering surety of her dark eyes and, as she always could, saw so deeply into them she felt she nearly could see the workings of Anna’s mind. She nearly felt her wild hope to lay at Cas’ side while her youthful beauty wrinkled and aged. While she grew into a stout middle aged woman, then to a feeble old one. Already close to the edge, it was this that tipped Cas over and she whined deep in her throat while she tumbled into her little death. 

Anna scooted back up to Cas’ face level as she came back to herself and kissed her, with a little smirk. Cas returned to flurry of kisses, giggling and losing the edge of drama they had had. 

 

She grabbed Anna around them middle and tugged her down. Her tiger allowed herself to be repositioned, falling languidly at Cas’ side. She kissed the side of Cas’ face, “Get me the phone, will you, Cas?” 

“You are lying undressed with your beautiful wife and you want to make a call?” 

Anna slid her lips down to Cas neck, “Yes, room service, champagne.” 

Cas tilted her head to give Anna better access and said, “You know I am told champagne tastes delightful from my skin, yes?” 

Anna growled against her throat and rolled Cas’ nipples between her fingers, making her arch and groan. “God, Cas, how am I ever going to get anything done for the rest of my life when you say stuff like that?” 

“You are not, but here,” she handed Anna the phone, “Get us the champagne, and something sweet too, yes?” 

“Sure thing, Cassy, but don’t do that thing you did last time I tried to make a call with you around.” 

Cas practically wilted, and withdrew her fingers from their teasing, “You take away all of my fun.” 

“Behave and we’ll see if that claim about champagne tasting better from your skin is true.” 

Cas scoffed but lay sedately beside her while she dialed, “As though you ever were going to be not looking into that claim, bounty hunter.”


	30. Matricide

The screams that rent the house on Harrington Lane in the blackest hours of the night seared Pellinore Warthrop into his bed. He felt as helpless now as he had been when it had been Will Henry screaming through the night. How was it that he had so many children shrieking in his home? It wasn’t as though he was capable of offering comfort. His two month found daughter had begun this recently too, atop all of the other distracting and destructive of her tendencies. Screaming through most of the night. 

The bond of blood he owed her nearly drew him from his bed. If she was tormented was it not his fault for not giving her more immediate care? Regardless that he had not known she existed. Was it not his labor as a father to soothe her? But he could barely speak to her. Only in the last few days, after her shopping trip with Jack had she stopped breaking his things. She still wouldn’t say a word to _him_. Still looked at him as though at any moment he might grow fangs. 

Her shrieking would be keeping Will Henry awake, his attention would suffer for it the next morning. He felt a twinge of guilt that he also feared she would irritate Jack so direly that he would refuse to come back. His child screamed in her bed and he worried she would annoy his friend? 

When her screams began to break with sobs he rose to his feet, padding toward the door. He stopped with his hand on his own doorknob, rethinking himself. What was he going to do? Loom in her doorway? Tell her to be quiet? He could not comfort Will Henry and at least he had some inkling into the boy’s mindset. She was entirely mysterious. 

He turned the doorknob and opened his door, then shut it again, plagued with indecision. He had almost convinced himself to return to bed when he heard, only down the hallway, her door opening. For a horrified moment he feared she would come to his bedroom seeking comfort. But no footsteps emerged from her bedroom. 

The screams stopped. 

Thankfully, he collapsed back into his bed but only had a single moment of respite, then sprang back to his feet, a horrified fear lurching him into action. 

He shot to his door and scurried across the hall. Jack would not have caused her harm would he? He half expected to see the bounty hunter emerging from her bedroom whistling and flipping an empty container of sedative. He slowed, seeing that her door was open. 

He peered around the door jamb and reeled back at the sight. John _was_ in her room, but he was not forcibly sedating her. He sat on the side of her bed, his bare feet on the floor. She was sitting up against the headboard, half covered with blankets. She wore real pajamas now, not his floppy cast offs. Her choppy hair was sweat soaked and tousled. Jack held her hands in his, her palms turned up under the light of her tableside lamp.

“You can see as well as I can, Anna, that your hands are quite clean of blood.” 

Pellinore slunk back into the shadows and continued to eavesdrop, too interested in the insight he might gain to quibble about intruding on privacy. 

She nodded silently, looking at her hands. Jack looked at her, an odd expression on his face, puzzlement and concern. It was not often that Pellinore had seen him quite so earnest. 

“Sometimes,” she said, “I can feel in between my fingers when I wake up.” Pellinore started. When she spoke without shouting she sounded quite like his mother had. 

“Look at them in the light, they are as clean as mine.” 

She didn’t look at her hands, she looked at him with luminous eyes. Her lips barely moved, “I killed my mom.” Her chin quivered and she took her hands back from Jack. 

Pellinore could see that she watched Jack like she had watched him when she broke his things, like she was waiting, tensed for a blow. What sort of blow Pellinore was not sure. It wasn’t as though Jack was one to break into little girls’ bedrooms to punch them. 

Jack looked back at her for a very long time, head tilted slightly to the side. Finally, his voice freed of the slicked charm and teasing lilt it usually had, he said, “So did I.” 

She leaned toward him, her eyes stuck with awe for him, “How old were you?” It struck Pellinore as an impertinent and invasive question. He himself had learned long ago that if one wants information out of Jack Kearns one must just wait until he is ready to give it. 

But Jack answered, and bluntly, “Seventeen.” 

“I was eleven.” 

“I know.” 

“How did you do it?” Her question was bold, not at all elusive or euphemistic.

“I pushed her down the stairs. They thought it was an accident. No charges were pressed.” 

“I won’t tell. I’m no narc.” 

Jack got up and moved to the other side of her bed and sat next to her, leaning as she did against the headboard. Pellinore dissected the odd move, all the way around the bed rather than just scooting backward. Then he understood. It allowed Anna an unimpeded route to the door. He kept his hands in his lap, sat with more than a foot of space between them. Companionship and not an advance. Pellinore remembered when he was very small, his mother coming to his room to comfort him from a nightmare. She had sat right next to him, let him curl up under her arm. But this young girl recoiled from closeness in every form. 

Jack, of course, knew how to be a threat, how to angle his body and position himself to drive his victims near to madness in fear. Obviously he also knew how to do the opposite of his usual tactics and create a sense of ease. Pellinore had just never seen him do it.

After he had settled himself he said, “That is not entirely true is it? You turned over you foster father and his entourage of narcotic dealers did you not?” 

Pellinore saw pink paint her cheekbones in the same way it painted his when he was uncomfortable or embarrassed. 

“That was different,” she whispered. 

“How was it different?” 

She crossed her arms defensively and Pellinore could see her shutting down, see the familiar barricades go up behind her eyes, “Whatever.” 

He scoffed, “I was not doubting you, Anna. I was asking. Tell me how it was different.” 

“It’s not like I _wanted_ to run his shit for him. He made me.” 

“Ah, so he was an enemy.” 

She grinned that same lopsided grin she had given him over the breakfast table, “Yeah.” 

“And I am what that you would not, to use your term, _narc_?” 

She shrugged and bit her lip, “I dunno, not an enemy?” 

He chuckled, “I do not think you will turn me over to the police.” 

“You believe me?” 

Jack weighed his words, speaking deliberately, “I believe you did not feel as if you were betraying someone when you turned him over. I believe that you did rightly blinding the boy in your foster home. I believe that you had every right to kill your mother and the delinquent that you slaughtered along with her.” 

She stared at Jack like she did not know who or what he was. As though he were incomprehensible. Pellinore felt an unbidden pang of jealousy at Jack’s ease at finding just what to say to her. He had accomplished in two days what Pellinore could not in two months. 

She wet her lips, “He said if I didn’t move his shit for him he’d put me in the Hudson.” 

“Would he have?” 

“Yeah. I thought if I got out he’d put me down, even if I didn’t talk. Because I got caught or whatever.” 

“Anna,” he said and he reached out and tilted her chin up to look at him. She did, unblinking, her attention absolute. He continued, “Killing someone who is trying to kill you is just good sense.” 

“I’m still a murderer.” 

He shrugged, “So am I.”

“Do you ever think about it?” 

“Killing my mother?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I used to. I used to dream about it.”

“Nightmares?” 

“Yes.” 

Pellinore thought that now was the time he ought to leave them to their devices and stop eavesdropping. One could argue that he was within his rights to eavesdrop on his suffering child, but not on Jack. Still, he didn’t move. 

Jack continued, “When you were screaming, did you know where you were?” 

“No.” 

“I used to wake up no matter where I was, afraid I was back at home,” Jack said. 

“How’d you get over it?”

“Close your eyes,” he said. 

Pellinore expected her to scoff. Her tendency to rotate to keep him from her back whenever he moved through a room was one of the first things he had noticed about her. But she shut her eyes right away. 

“Smell the room, Anna, tell me how it smells.” 

She smelled, “Dust. Kind of musty. Whatever detergent Will uses.” 

“Good,” Jack said, “What did you mother’s apartment smell like?” 

“Perfume, cigarettes, old milk.” 

“And your last foster home?” 

“Cigarettes, sweat, cocaine.” She opened her eyes and looked back at him, “So I smell it out before I open my eyes?” 

“Give it a try next time.” 

“Sorry I woke you up.” 

“I wasn’t asleep.” 

“What were you doing?” 

Jack grinned at her, “Cleaning my gun.” 

She scrunched up her face, “Gross.” 

He whapped her head, “You disgusting teenager, my _rifle_.” 

“You have to clean rifles?” 

“Yes, it is of utmost import,” he paused, “Would you like to learn?” 

“Yeah!” 

“Then get up, come on.” 

She scampered up and Pellinore slunk back into the shadows, hiding behind his own door, nearly shutting it. He saw them leave the room, her looking tiny beside Jack. 

Knowing that he ought to retire to his bed, Pellinore followed them, walking as silently as he could. Jack went into the spare room he always slept in first, her trailing after him. Again, Jack left the door open and didn’t get between her and an escape. 

Perhaps he ought to be happy that _someone_ was bonding with her. That she was not so irrevocably damaged that she could not be spoken to and dealt with. But he felt niggling envy at Jack’s ease with her. That he seemed to have some implicit understanding of her. It was a twofold jealousy for he also begrudged the quickness with which he had relinquished secrets he had not even told Pellinore. He had thought something had happened between Jack and his mother, Jack had hinted at it, alluded to it with innuendo and teasing. But he had said it so brazenly to this girl he barely knew. 

Jack sat in front of her on the floor, his beautiful Winchester rifle in his lap, a box of cleaning tools at his side. 

“Alright, are you listening?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good. First it must be unloaded. Of course, I’ve already unloaded it, but this is how you would do it. Do you see this bronze tube that runs along the muzzle?” 

“Yeah.” 

“It’s called a magazine.” 

“I know what a mag is. Just not one like that.” 

“Yes, of course you do,” he said, “Remove it, like this, do you see, quite empty.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Then open the chamber as so,” he demonstrated, showing her the empty chamber. 

“Ok,” she said. 

“Here, show me,” and, with another uncomfortable shiver of jealousy on Pellinore’s part, he handed over his prized rifle to her. 

She mimicked him, following his reprimands exactly. 

“No, keep your finger from the trigger, excellent. Just like that. Perfect.” 

He took her through all the cleaning of his weapon, allowing her to do it for him, under his watchful eye. She, the same girl who had torn half of his library apart, was methodical and precise. 

When it was cleaned to Jack’s standard she handed it back. When it left the tips of her fingers she said, “I used a .44 Magnum. His gun. The gangster’s I mean.” 

He turned his back to her, packing his rifle into it’s padded case, “A big gun. You must have fallen over.” 

“Yeah, and it hurt my elbow, it hurt for days.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and Pellinore was taken aback by how small she could make herself. Infinitely more tiny with Jack standing over her. 

“Next time I come I’ll bring a handgun. I’ll show you how to shoot one properly.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes. But it is passed midnight, you ought to go to bed.” 

She scampered to her feet, still very small next to him, “Ok, g’night, Jack.” 

“Goodnight, Anna.” 

Pellinore slunk down the stairs to avoid her and she left Jack’s room, scooting her stocking feet. She returned to her own bedroom and clicked the door shut. Gingerly Pellinore took a step back up to the hall to return to his room. 

“Pellinore,” Jack said from his room. 

Pellinore froze, then rallied, stiffening his shoulders and clasping his hands behind his back. He stepped into the light that spilled out of Jack’s open door, “John.” 

“It is terribly bad manners to eavesdrop on personal conversations.” 

“I cannot eavesdrop in my own home, John.” 

Jack rolled his eyes, “Appease your own guilt however you wish, Pellinore. But why lurk in shadows?” 

“How do you do it?” 

“Do what, Pellinore?” 

“Speak to her.”

“Well, it’s a rather delicate process, you see first one must open one’s mouth then -”

“For god’s sake, John!” 

Jack laughed, “What is it that you want me to tell you?” 

“How did you get her to talk so quickly?” 

He shrugged, “We have an understanding.” 

“Then you can tell me why she has been demolishing the house?” 

“That is an easy one, Pellinore, I shouldn’t have to spell that out for you.” 

Pellinore scowled, “I asked you to come here to help me!” 

Jack, dropping his leonine stalking, dropped onto the chair beside the chest of drawers and sighed, “Do you want to know your problem, Pellinore?” 

Pellinore crossed his arms and scowled, “Fine.” 

“You took the girl in out of obligation, the same reason you took in Will Henry, is it not? Or were you in the market for a daughter?” 

Pellinore did not believe this comment warranted a response and only deepened his glower. 

A lazy grin spread over Jack’s face, “I will take that as an admission. She believes you want something from her.” 

Pellinore scoffed, “What could I possibly want from a thirteen year old girl?” 

Jack shrugged, “Drawing from only her own personal experience, entertainment, disposable help, sex.” 

Pellinore flinched at the last one, “She is thirteen, I am her father, she could not possibly believe I was interested in-” he trailed off rather than complete that thought. 

Jack laughed with genuine mirth, “Her mother was willing to sell her, who knows what you might be willing to do?” 

“You know very well-”

“Of course, _I_ do. But I am not your concern. She does not. Now goodnight, Pellinore.” 

He retreated to Jack’s bedroom door then turned back a final time, “How long will you stay?” 

Jack shrugged, “A while more, I think.” 

“Good.” Pellinore left and returned to his room to sleep now that the house was, mercifully, quiet. 

_____________________________________

 

Pellinore felt very much like he was back at school, taking an exam. Jack leaned in the doorway, watching him pour a bowl of cereal. Will Henry sat on the farthest kitchen chair, drowsily eating Captain Crunch, well, the off brand Captain Crunch that came in bags. As though Pellinore was going to spend four dollars for a box of cereal. Anna was sitting next to him, silently eating her own cereal, head down and not looking at anyone. 

She looked less diminutive in clothing that fit her properly, but she was still small for her age. Pellinore noted that she had the same awkward bony structure he had had as a child. 

Pellinore studied her for awhile while she was eating her breakfast, juxtaposed with Will Henry. His eyes were still sleepy and he slouched over his his chair, fighting yawns. After all, she had kept him up half the night. She must have been tired as well, but she was tense and jumpy. As much as she seemed to like Jack she clearly didn’t appreciate him lurking behind her. 

Pellinore noted that right above the collar of her t-shirt, on her clavicle, he could see a small and perfectly circular burn scar, probably from a cigarette. He made himself think through the situations wherein one would acquire such a scar. Her mother or a foster parent probably. They would have stood over her and extinguished it on her bare skin. It would have hurt terribly. If it had happened to him as a child of twelve he would have cried. 

Her last foster father then, whom she had been frightened of, else she would have fought back. He added it to the case he was compiling. It was an exercise he had imagined the night before while he tried to sleep after his conversation with Jack. If he developed his understanding of her as though a case from her perspective he might be able to draw logical conclusions to her psyche. He was a different strain of caregiver than she had encountered before, was he not? He only had to show enough different symptoms that she would recognize a gap in her fundamental understanding. 

Pellinore looked up at Jack, then back at Anna, “Anna,” he said and she looked up, “Are you- do you have any friends at school?” 

Will looked up, his eyebrows so high in surprise they were almost hidden by his hair. When had his hair gotten so floppy? It needed to be trimmed. 

She scowled and didn’t say anything. 

“I had been thinking… there is a boy of whom Will Henry seems fond, he ought to be in your grade. Malachi Stinnnet I believe. You might find companionship in him…” 

She looked back at her cereal as though he hadn’t spoken. His instinct was to reprimand her, ‘ _Look at me when I am speaking to you and answer me._ ’ But somehow he thought that this wouldn’t help. 

Jack, still leaning in the doorway, looked very amused. 

Will stepped in and added, “She’s met Malachi, they eat together he said, I introduced them when I took her to the bus stop her first morning to school.” 

“Oh, good,” Pellinore answered a little lamely. He fiddled with his spoon, “I called your math teacher a few days ago, Anna.” 

Her head shot up and she finally spoke, “Why?” 

“To see how you were progressing, why else?” 

The shifty way she looked back at her cereal and avoided his gaze revealed that she knew exactly how that conversation must have gone. 

She was in Pre-Algebra and already obviously behind. Pellinore had never had any trouble with mathematics, he had always been two or three grades ahead in those classes. How could she be behind in mathematics? He forced himself to remember his own case study. If he were a child and he were hungry and afraid for his life, he would not care about math class either.

He took a moment to force his brain through the facts. She was quite obviously clever. She had a poor and spotty background in public education. SHe suffered a ready distrust of authority. She did not like too many people, nor being told where to be and when she could and could not leave. He made himself think of every other person as a potential threat. That would mean a slice of her concentration of every other person around her. No wonder she was failing her classes. 

 

“Will Henry does his school work from home, would you prefer that? You could do it in the kitchen, or in your room.” He waited almost a full minute and when still she did not answer him he continued, “You do not have to make a choice for your entire academic future. Perhaps for the rest of this year. You can change your mind for next year.” 

Half buried in her cereal she answered, “Okay.” 

Will looked over at her, “We can work on school stuff together.” 

She brightened and gave him the same lopsided grin she had given Jack and said, “Yeah, that sounds good, Will.” 

Was it only him that she hated? Will he supposed he understood, unlike he or Jack Will did not tower over her. But Jack too? He took a steadying breath and attempted to subvert his jealousy over an eleven year old boy. 

“I will alert your school and order your material,” he said stiffly.

“Okay.” 

Another long silence sat in the kitchen and Pellinore looked at Jack who seemed to be fighting laughter, still in the doorway. Angrily, Pellinore mouthed, ‘Help me.’ 

Jack sidled into the room and bent over the refrigerator. He grabbed his breakfast and sat at the table across from Will and Anna with a cup of yoghurt. “Could I trouble your for a spoon, Pellinore?” 

With a scowl Pellinore dug out a spoon and handed it to Jack, who winked up at him. 

“Homeschooling was a good choice, Anna,” Jack said, still making eyes at Warthrop, “How else would you keep up when you go on month long expeditions?” 

“Huh?” She said, at precisely the same time as her father said, “What?”

Smiling over a particularly good scoop of yoghurt Jack said, “Why, Pellinore, what did you plan on doing with her when you went off on research? Leaving her here?” 

“You can leave me here,” she said quickly, “I’m thirteen.” 

For a moment Pellinore looked as though he were considering this, “She does seem to be quite self-sufficient.” 

Jack looked at him incredulously, he set down his yoghurt cup and said, “Pellinore, may I speak to you?” 

Pellinore shrugged and allowed himself to be steered into the parlor where Jack rounded on him. Jack spoke in a sharp whisper, “Pellinore, you cannot be serious. She is old enough to leave at home for a weekend perhaps. You cannot leave her here _alone_ for even a single week. The last time you left on an expedition you were gone for seven.” 

“You expect me to take her with me? Damage such as she inflicted could harm far more than my belongings if we were on a case.” 

“You leave her alone and you’ll have her taken away from you, and Will Henry with her. Is that what you want? Think of what she endured in the foster system, Pellinore, you would abandon her to that again? Abandon Will?” 

“This plea is most unlike you, Jack,” Pellinore said coldly, “Why do you care?”

Jack fixed Pellinore with a fearsome glare and stalked back into the kitchen, Pellinore following. He went straight up the stairs and, in a few minutes, came back down. He smacked a small, battered phone in front of Anna. 

“Here,” he said, “It’s a burner, prepaid, it has 600 minutes. My number is on it, call me if you need something.” 

Then, calm as anything, he returned to his yoghurt. 

She gingerly picked up the phone and stared at it, it was cheap and damaged but she looked at it like it was the holy grail. Pellinore was more than irritated when her gaze turned to Jack, struck again with confounded awe. 

She slipped the phone into her pocket and held her hand over it protectively. Finally she said, “Are you leaving?” 

He winked at her, “You have not gotten rid of me so quickly, my dear.” 

Pellinore interrupted him, “Will Henry, finish your breakfast, there is a new specimen for us to look at in the basement.” 

“Yes, sir,” Will tipped his bowl back and drank the sweet Captain Crunch milk, then rinsed out his bowl and left it in the sink, “Alright, sir,” he glanced over at Anna, “I’ll see you later, Anna.” 

“Yeah, Will.”

Pellinore stalked into the basement with Will at his heels, leaving Anna sitting alone with Jack, who was still methodically eating his yogurt. 

“D’you mean it?” she asked, “I can call you?” 

“I would not have given the phone to you if I did not mean it,” He looked up at her sharply, “Don’t be giving that number out now. Not to a soul.” 

“Promise,” she said.

“Answer if it rings, even if it isn’t from my number, it will be me.” 

“You- you might call _me_?” 

He scraped up the last of his yogurt, “I’ll be checking in.” 

He tossed his spoon with a loud clatter into the sink and threw his empty yogurt cup in a clean arc into the waste bin, “Now, do you want to learn to pick a lock?” 

She beamed, “Hell yeah!”   
_____________________________________________

Three days later she carried his bag down for him to pack into his motorcycle. He took it from her, expecting her to say something to him, ask him to stay or why he was leaving, but she didn’t. Just watched him pack first his bag and then his rifle. 

“You still have that phone?” He asked. 

Her hand instinctively went to the small bulge in her pocket and she nodded. 

“Good girl,” he said ruffling her hair. She beamed and fairly nuzzled into his hand. Something in his stomach lurched. “The power cable is on the kitchen table. Keep it on.” 

She nodded and he mounted his motorcycle. 

“Aren’t you going to say goodbye to -” She obviously still hadn’t figured out what to call him. 

Jack grinned, “Don’t worry, Anna, Pellinore and I have said our farewells.” He looked at her for a moment, “Don’t forget to call if you need something.” 

She shuffled her feet, “You mean it?” 

He scowled, “I do not make empty gestures, Anna. I gave you the phone. Use it if you need to.” Without another word, he revved his motorcycle to life and spun it out of the driveway. 

Three weeks passed and he had not heard anything from Harrington Lane. That wasn’t really unusual and he allowed himself to be taken up by his newest hunt: a man who had skipped bail after shooting up a convenience store. 

He’d tracked him, Leroy Danskin, to the outskirts of town. Jack was grinning, he loved it when they made their way out of town and he got a real hunt out of it. He cruised up the corn field at a slow pace, looking for a hint. Then he saw it and his heart accelerated in anticipation. A broken stalk. He cut the engine and slid off of his bike, lifting his rifle out after him. He skidded down the ditch and back up the embankment on the other side. 

Then his phone rang. A steady buzz on the inside of his jacket. It couldn’t be heard, but he felt it on his skin. He wanted to ignore it. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and drew out his phone, just to look at the Caller ID. 

He flipped it open and answered in a whisper, “Anna?”

“Oh- um- Hey Jack,” she sounded nervous and unsure.

Still whispering he said, “Do you need something urgently?” 

“Um...not...urgent...sorry.”

“I’m hunting a felon, perhaps I can call you back in a couple of hours.” 

She hung up. 

His stomach clenched in apprehension, but she had said it wasn’t urgent. And his quarry was so close. He pocketed his phone and entered the corn field. 

It didn’t take him a couple of hours as he had thought, it had taken him half the night and when he’d finally found his prey he’d been armed and ready for a fight. Jack flexed his arm, feeling the stitches across his deltoid pull where he’d been grazed. He unlocked the door to his motel room and yawned, barely having the energy to set the myriad locks he usually kept on his door. Then, without even undressing he collapsed into bed, trying to kick his boots off. 

He was nearly asleep when he remembered. 

He sat up blearily and groped for his phone, he gave himself a few minutes to rally from nearly being asleep and he called. 

“He-hello? Jack?” 

“Yes, Anna, it’s me. Is there something you need?” 

“I don’t want to- I mean- I should be able to-” 

“For God’s sake, girl, just tell me.” 

“Warthrop left.” 

Jack let his head fall into one of his hands, elbow braced on his knee, “He what?” 

“He um, I think he had research or whatever, he said he’d be two days at most…”

“How long has it been?” 

“Thirteen days…” 

“Your concern is touching, Anna, but this is not abnormal for Pellinore,” But he felt anger rising in his belly. He had _told_ Pellinore not to do this, not to leave her alone. But he had, of course. Jack was sure that he had really thought it would just be two days, that any girl of thirteen would be fine for that short of a time. 

“No- no it isn’t that,” she sounded frightened, close to tears.

“What is it, Anna?” Jack said, his own tiredness fading away. 

“He, um, he forgot to leave any money or anything and...there was a box of Rice-a-roni in the cupboard but...I…”

“Anna, are you telling me all you’ve eaten in the last thirteen days is a box of Rice-a-roni?” 

Her voice shook and broke in tears, “I wanted to steal something but I don’t wanna go back to Juvie. I don’t wanna go back to foster care, I wanna stay here.” 

“Shh,” Jack said, “Anna, you’ll be ok, no one is sending you away.” 

“Bu-but you said if he left me alone they’d send me back and Will too.” 

Jack could have cursed, of course she would listen in, “No one is sending you anywhere, do you understand, Anna? Now I need you to go upstairs.” 

“Ok, I’m upstairs.” 

“Go into my room,” He corrected himself, “the room I stayed in.” 

“Ok, I’m here.” 

“Go into the closet, the third floor board from the wall should be loose, can you open it?” 

“Gimme a minute.” Jack heard rustling on the other side of the door then, “Yeah, holy shit.” 

“This is our little secret, Anna, alright?” 

“Course, I ain’t no narc.” Her questions started coming faster than he could answer them, “Is this a fake passport? Is your real name Richard Koury or Jack Kearns? Holy shit you have a gun stored here!”

“Slow down, Anna, my real name doesn’t matter, just call me Jack, yes, that is a fake passport and a very real gun, handle neither of them,” he said, although he was grinning, “There’s a roll of cash, take some, clean yourself up and go get yourself something from the grocery store. If you can’t make the walk, order a pizza, the phone book is on top of the fridge.” 

“Shit, thanks, Jack,” he could hear her unrolling the cash, “Fuck, how much money is here?”

“Watch your language,” he said before he thought about it. Very quickly he followed with, “Ten grand.”

“Shit,” she said “Oh, sorry, but ten K? You just packed ten K into your buddy’s house? You _have_ ten K just sitting around?” 

“It is an emergency fund, leave the rest of it there, take more if you need it. That will always be there, Anna, if you need it.” 

“Thanks, Ja-” dead silence crept through the phone, then the sound of her breathing. 

“Anna?” 

In a shaking whisper she said, “Someone’s trying to break in the house, Jack.” 

“What? Are you sure it isn’t Pellinore and Will?” 

Her breathing was coming very fast, “No. No. They’re battering down the door.” She gasped, “Jack, people are in the house.” 

“Anna, listen to me, you can’t climb out of my window, you’ll break your legs, get to Will’s room, there is a tree you can climb down.”

She answered in barely a whisper, “They’re on the stairs, already. Jack, I know who they are.”

Frozen dread filled Jack’s blood. There would be no one else who would make her sound so frightened. The drug runners she had sold out. They must have found out where she had been sent. 

“Get under the bed, Anna, NOW.” 

“Don’t leave, Jack.” 

“Shhh, I won’t, but you have to be quiet.” 

He was sprinting out the door to his motorcycle, phone tucked between his shoulder and head. He’d left the motel door swinging open, but did not go back to close it. He revved his bike up without bothering with a helmet and exploded into motion toward New Jerusalem. He was more than forty five minutes away, too far.

“Anna, don’t respond. I am going to hang up. I am too far away. I am going to call the police.” 

“No!” she hissed, “They’ll take me away from Pellinore.” 

“I know, Anna, shh, tell them I have been there with you, alright? Tell them I left this afternoon to run an errand and I planned to be back by tomorrow. Trust me, Anna.” 

Awkwardly, and unsafely, handing his motorcycle with only one hand, he, gritting his teeth, hung up on her, knowing he would not be able to call back. Horrific anger was filling his veins. Was no protection put on little girls who stood witness against felons? Where they just free to hunt her down? And how had Pellinore left her for so long? 

He called 911. 

“This is emergency services-”

“Police,” he said, “Send police to 425 Harrington Lane in New Jerusalem, Massachusetts. There is a girl there alone and armed felons breaking in. Send them now.” 

He hung up and pocketed his phone so he could concentrate on the drive, revving his bike up to its maximum speed. He swore as he drove. He’d left a revolver in that gap in the floor boards. What were the odds of her leaving it there? About zero. So she’d be armed. He didn’t know if that was good or bad. Good. It was good. He would want to be armed if he were hiding under a bed with felons lurking through the house. She was capable of defending herself. She’d displayed that quite well. 

“Just stay under the bed,” he said to himself, “Just stay put.” 

He made the journey in thirty minutes, rather than forty five, leaping off his bike when he got there, letting it fall to the ground behind him. An ambulance was outfront with flashing lights and six police cars. 

“Dr. Koury?” Robert Morgan said, attempting to stop him charging into the house, “Dr. Koury, you can’t go in there.” 

Kearns rounded on him, “Where is she?” 

“We are sending in a swat team, they are about to use tear gas.”

“Where is she? Where are they?” 

“The intruders have been dealt with-”

“Then who are you tear gassing?” he said through gritted teeth, looming over the constable, “A thirteen year old girl?” 

“She is armed? She’s shot at my officers.” 

“She’s frightened, your police allowed her to be tracked down by the human garbage she sold out for you and now you send it armed officers and are surprised she will not stand down?” Jack shoved him bodily out of the way and he fell back against the banister of the porch. Jack charged into the house and up the stairs three at a time. He stopped outside the door of the room he usually took. 

An armed officer was crouched by the door on the other side, wearing bullet proof armor, “We been talking her down for twenty minutes,” he said, “She ain’t coming out.” 

Jack sneered at him and peeked into the room. He could see her on her belly under the bed, his revolver in her shaking hands. He could see from here that she was bloody. 

“Anna? Anna, it’s me. It’s Jack.” 

“Jack?” Her voice was high pitched. 

“Yes, Anna, come here.” 

Immediately she shuffled from under the bed, and bolted toward him, his revolver in her hand. Her hands were indeed covered in blood and it was spattered over her face. She slammed into him with her full force, pressing her face into his chest and shaking. 

“Good girl,” he said, pushing her tacky hair out of her face, “Give me the gun now.” 

With trembling hands she handed it over and he slid it into his pocket, then he scooped her up in his arms. The armored officer staring at him a little mystified. 

Jack walked her downstairs, “Are you injured?” 

Against his chest she shook her head. Then she nodded.

“We’ll take a look at it outside, alright?” 

“Ok.” 

He carried her out the front door, where Robert waited. His tense shoulders sank in relief when he saw them. 

“She okay?” 

“She is fine,” Jack snapped, “call off your dogs.” 

“Put her in the ambulance, Dr. Koury. An officer will ride with her.” 

His arms tightened around her, when he spoke his voice was velveteen and dangerous, “Why ever would an officer do that?” 

“She-we have to charge her, Doctor, she shot a man, he’s in critical condition.” 

“A man who had just broken into her home with the intent to kill her or worse, which she knew. You would charge a thirteen year old for defending herself?” 

“Doctor, I know about her file, she’s got a history-”

“Of defending herself,” he snarled, “If you want someone to charge, look up the halfwits who provided no protection for a teenage witness in a drug trial.”

 

Robert Morgan nodded, he had always been a kind man, and Jack saw the small kernels of his distaste for charging a girl who was so obviously the victim. 

“Ok, ok,” he said, “Get her checked out, we’ll have to interview her.”   
“That will have to wait, as you well know, Pellinore will have to be there.” 

“Dr. Koury, we have a child psychologist waiting, she will do just fine.” 

“You will wait for Pellinore,” he snarled. 

Jack set her down on the edge of the ambulance and looked her over himself. She had bruises in the shape of a large hand on her throat but no significant damage. He was suddenly very relieved she had been armed. 

She refused to leave Jack’s side, following him when he tried to leave her at the ambulance to speak to Morgan. He let her tuck herself under his arm. 

Kearns bullied and snarled and gnashed his teeth until they were allowed to go back into the house, the case being a straightforward one and the evidence having been gathered. When the police left and the sirens died away it seemed very quiet. 

She stood shivering in the kitchen, still covered in blood. 

“Go take a shower. I’ll order us food.” 

But she didn’t move. Her eyes were unfocused and her body shaking. She lifted her hand to her face and touched the tacky blood. A long and horrible whine issued from her throat.

“Alright, I’ve got you, come here,” Jack said, scooping her up again, “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He carried her upstairs to the bathroom and put her, fully clothed, into the shower. He turned it on warm and started wiping the blood from her face and hands. She stopped shaking under the warm water. “Alright, sweetheart,” he said in a low soothing voice, “I’m going to leave you here, alright, I’ll get you fresh clothes. I’ll put them just inside the door. I’ll be right outside, alright?” 

He got her clothes then sat outside the bathroom, letting her finish her shower. He called and ordered dinner while he waited. After a few minutes the water turned off, in a few more she came out in the floppy sweatshirt he had found her and cozy pajama pants. He stood up when she came out and she huddled under his arm immediately. And odd warm sensation curled in his chest when she did and he was nearly overcome with relief that this girl he had only met a few weeks ago was alright. 

She still would not walk, so he picked her up again and carried her downstairs to the couch. He set her down then sat down next to her. She scrambled under the protection of his arm again and he allowed her to cuddle against him. 

“Does your throat hurt?” he asked and she nodded. 

“A lot?” She considered and shook her head. 

“Do you need anything else?” 

She looked up at him with shiny dark eyes, “No...but will you stay?” 

He scoffed, “Of course I’ll stay. I’ll stay until your father returns. Do not fret, my dear, you won’t be left alone.” He picked up the remote and turned on the television, “Is there anything you like to watch?” 

“No, just whatever.” 

He flipped it to a made for TV Disney movie and pulled a blanket off the back of the couch to put over her. She was half laying down, her head resting on his side, his arm draped over her. 

“Oh this one is funny, it’s about leprechauns,” she said. 

They watched the ridiculous movie for a few minutes then the doorbell rang. She jumped, leaping to her feet and a flurry of limbs. 

“It’s alright,” he said, “It’s the pizza guy. I’ll get it.” 

He went to the front door to fetch their dinner then came back, snagging two glasses from the kitchen on his way. 

He set down the pizzas on the coffee table and poured them each a cup of Pepsi from the two liter than he’d gotten with the food. He would have prefered something stronger, but when he was the only one caring for a traumatized young girl, he thought it best to stick to soda.

She devoured the pizza and he remembered in another rush of anger, this time at Pellinore, that she had barely eaten in the last two weeks. 

“Slow down, you’ll make yourself sick.” 

Through an enormous mouthful of pizza she said, “Srr, Jagh,” which he thought was intended to be ‘Sorry, Jack.’ He looked away from her, taking his own pizza. That had been so overpoweringly teenagerish it had put that gurgling warmth back into his stomach. 

She fell asleep minutes after shoveling half a pizza into her mouth, blanket draped over her, head on his lap. Idly he patted her hair. Exhaustion was overcoming him as well, and the sun was coming up. His eyelids dropped closed, he fought it for a few moments then succumbed. 

He woke up to Pellinore standing over him. Dark glower on his face. 

"What did you bring into my house, Kearns. I leave for one instant and am called back because there has been a shooting?"

Jack stood up with brutal speed, knocking Anna off of his lap, where she still slept. She sat up blearily, hair a mess, looking between her father and Jack.

“What did _I_ bring in? Me?” He shoved Pellinore back by the shoulders, wrath rising in red splotches on his cheeks, “You left your daughter alone for nearly two weeks! You gave her no money for food! She called me because she was starving!” 

Pellinore did not take this without retort, firing back at once, “That does not explain the gunfire! Robert said Anna nearly killed a man! How many people is she going to murder?” 

On the couch Anna sank back. Her breath became shallow and fast, her eyes darted between them. A low whine began to rise from her throat.

“Pellinore, all due respect, but shut your god blasted mouth.” 

“I shall not! How can a single child cause so much bloodshed if she is not seeking it out?” 

Jack, from the corner of his eye, saw Anna flinch and he struck, smashing his fist across Pellinore’s jaw, “Stop talking.” 

Enraged, Pellinore shoved Jack back by the shoulders, rough and hard. Jack took a few stumbling steps back to right himself. As he did, with a wild cry, Anna launched herself up from the couch and tackled Pellinore, knocking him off of his feet and onto the ground with her atop him. She didn’t seem to know what to do after she had knocked him over, she was still breathing rapidly, her fist poised back, but not striking. 

At the sound of the tumult Will ran into the room pell mell, “Sir? Anna! Stop!” 

Jack was on her immediately, pulling her back off of Pellinore, “Anna, Anna, listen to me, you have to calm down.” 

He crouched so he was closer to her eye level and turned her to face him, “Can you do that for me? Three big breaths. That’s a good girl.” 

She settled down, evening out her breath and looking at Jack. He stood and let her press her face into his chest, dropping an arm over her back. 

Will tried to help up Pellinore, who shooed him away angrily and got up unassisted, “Get off of me, boy, I can stand without your aid.”  
Will remained a little behind Pellinore, watching Anna and Jack. 

To Pellinore Jack said, in a forcibly calm voice, “The remnants of the men she was running cocain for came last night to exact revenge for her naming them to the police, Pellinore. You are lucky you did not come home to your daughter in a body bag.” 

“I did not-”

He put up a hand to keep Pellinore quiet, “When you talk to the police you will tell them that you left her here with me. That I was gone only for the evening. You will mention neither that she was left alone nor hungry.” 

Pellinore nodded stiffly, “That seems well thought out.” 

“Don’t leave her alone again.” 

“I did not think I would be gone so long.” 

“But you were, Pellinore.” 

He clasped his hands behind his back, “I am- Annalee, I am glad that you are uninjured.” 

She glanced around at him then very quickly turned back to press her face against Kearns.

Will spoke up from behind him, “Anna? Somebody attacked you? That’s why the police came? Are you okay?” 

She turned back around, looking at Will and resolutely not at Pellinore, “I’m okay, Will. You okay?” 

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“Ok.” 

“Anna,” Jack said in a soft tone Pellinore had never heard from him, “I’ve got to give my motorbike some care, would you be so obliging as to lend a hand?” 

“Yeah, ok.” 

“Wonderful, go on and put on something other than pajamas and meet me outside will you?” 

She, somewhat uneasily, pried herself from Kearns and shuffled passed Pellinore. He reached out when she passed, to brush back her hair. She jumped badly and flinched away from his hand. Lamely, he dropped it back to his side and allowed her to leave unimpeded. 

Pellinore watched her leave, brow knit and eyes dark. 

Once she had put on jeans and a sweatshirt Anna came back downstairs and headed for the door. Without looking through it, she went outside, hoping to escape the awkward confines of the house. On the porch she very nearly ran into a man who lurked there in a dark suit and tidy hair. 

She jumped back, going rigid. 

“Annalee Muriel Warthrop?” He asked, his voice intimidatingly deep. 

She didn’t say anything, trying to retreat toward the door. 

“How about you and I have a little talk.”

In her haste to retreat she had forgotten she had turned away from the door and found herself backed up on the banister of the porch, hulking man between her and either the steps or the door. Her blood began to pound in her ears and terror seized her. 

He came closer, “I’m officer Braton,” he said, “I’m just here to ask you some questions. We’ll get to the real stuff when your dad is here, but I thought we could talk first, just you and me.” 

He was less than three feet away from her when she broke, she bolted, throwing herself back over the banister. Her foot caught as she fled and she tumbled higgledy piggledy landing with a crunch, four feet down onto the hard ground and crying out in pain. 

The front door slammed open, crashing against the wall in a terrible clatter. 

Pellinore Warthrop stalked out, his backlit eyes flashed at Officer Braton, “What the devil do you think you are doing? Lurking upon my doorstep like a cutthroat!” 

Anna let out another whimper and his head snapped in her direction, taking in the broken banister and Officer Braton’s position and not finding it difficult to surmise what had happened. 

“You fetid dog,” he snarled, “Interrogating a child on her own. Have you partaken of the laws you are intended to uphold or do you merely bandy about like a snarling dog after your quarry?” 

“Sir,” Braton said stiffly, “If you think I pushed her over the railing, I can assure you-”

“Of course I do not,” he sneered, “A half blind ape could surmise you backed her into a corner and she fled. But have you forgotten you are bound by law to wait to speak with her until she is accompanied by her guardian? Or have they come so far in training dogs to stand upon their hind legs?” 

He stalked down the porch steps and circled it to where Anna was trying to pick herself up. 

“Are you injured?” 

She shook her head, but clutched her wrist to her belly and Pellinore could clearly see the scrapes on her hands and a slice on her knee where the broken bannister had caught and parted her flesh. 

“Come inside,” he said to her, allowing her to scamper at his back and keep him in between herself and the police officer. 

When she was inside Pellinore turned back to the officer, “You may return in the evening for your questioning when my daughter has had time to be seen to. Good day.” And he slammed the door in the officer’s face. 

Jack had come back in from the garage, “What the hell is going on?” 

Pellinore looked up at him, “Police, she tried to run. Get him off my porch, John.” 

“Gladly,” Jack brushed passed them and closed the door behind him. 

“Give me your wrist,” he said to Anna who only pressed it more snugly against her stomach. 

He took a long breath, “Anna, I need to see how extensive the damage is.” His eyes found the bruised handprint on her throat now that he was this close and he shifted uncomfortably. 

Slowly, she held out her wrist. 

He took it, feeling along the bone for any sign of breakage, “Clench your fist, wiggle your fingers. Excellent. Not broken. Just sprained.” 

He went to the freezer and withdrew a blue ice pack which he wrapped in a dishtowel and handed to her, “Keep that on it, it will feel better. That cut does not look to deep. Go upstairs and wash them, there is antibacterial ointment and band-aids under the bathroom sink, ask Will Henry if you can’t find them.” 

She took a few steps back then turned around, “So...the...um...The cops are gonna talk to me right?” 

“Yes, Anna, they will have to.” 

“But...you are going to be there, right?” 

He glanced about the kitchen and finding neither Will Henry nor Jack he said, “Yes, Anna, it is in accordance with the law that they cannot question you alone. I will be there.” 

She nodded, “Okay.”

“...If you prefer, an authorized children’s welfare agent can accompany you in my stead.” 

She looked down at the floor and shuffled her feet. 

He clasped his hands behind his back and said tightly, “Very well, I shall alert the officer of your preference upon his arrival this evening, I am sure that can easily be arranged.” 

Her head shot up, “No. I- Can _you_ come?” 

Behind his back, his hands tightened on each other, “Of course, Anna, I already said that I could. No go upstairs and see to your wounds.” 

“Okay,” she shuffled out, stopping at the door and peeking back at him before darting upstairs.


	31. An Alternate Version of Events

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a reworked version of Modern!Anna wherein she is brought to Harrington Lane at eleven rather than thirteen, shortly after the death of her mother.

James Henry whistled under his breath as he walked up the drive to 425 Harrington Lane. The mail song from Blues Clues had been stuck in his head since he’d watched it with little Will the day before and he couldn’t help but whistle it to himself. He stopped at the mailbox on his way up the drive and retrieved the stack of correspondence, sticking it under his arm. 

James had had a good last couple of days. Warthrop hadn’t called him in once and James had gotten a very rare weekend with his family. On Saturday they’d even watched a movie together without a single interruption. He’d given Mary a break in the kitchen and treated them all to his famous tatertot hotdish, Will’s favorite. Like he usually did when he made hotdishes, he’d whipped up a second dish to take to Harrington Lane. He could more often get his harried employer to eat a little something if it was already prepared and just had to be heated up. 

Hotdish cradled in his right arm and mail tucked under his left, James jostled his keys out of his pocket and opened the side door in the garage. He gauged the garage as he walked through it. Dr. Warthrop’s car could do for a cleaning and a check up and the garage needed a little tidying up. Next time the doctor sequestered himself in his library he’d have to get to work on that. When he got inside he’d add it to his list of projects.

He pushed the door shut behind him with his foot and tucked his keys back into his pocket. He walked into the kitchen with every intention of proceeding like this was any regular Monday. He’d put away the hotdish, try to press a little breakfast on Dr. Warthrop, and set to going through the weekend’s mail. But this particular Monday he didn’t make it through even the threshold of the kitchen before his routine was summarily destroyed.

Most of the kitchen was the same. A refrigerator door covered with taped and magneted on notes and reminders, a sink full of the weekend’s dishes, three or four abandoned tea cups, and stacks of papers on the table that waited for his organization. But there was one thing in the kitchen that was so obscenely different than anything James had ever seen in the doctor’s house it brought him up short. 

At a small clearing of papers on the table sat a half eaten bowl of cereal and behind the bowl of cereal a small, dark haired little girl, barely older than Will. She had looked up from her cereal and was watching him. Her raven black hair hung in unkept tousles around her face. It was a pretty face, with expressive dark eyes and a delicate bone structure. High cheekbones, a sharp chin. She scowled a little in confusion and the picture was complete. She was a near perfect miniature of the dark and looming Dr. Warthrop. 

“...Hello,” James said, smiling at her through his confusion, “Who might you be?” The resemblance was, without doubt, coincidental. There would be some visiting colleague of Dr. Warthrop’s here who had brought their child along. 

She didn’t answer, just continued to stare, hunching her tiny shoulders. She had the strangest assortment of clothing on. Too small Pokemon pajamas that had been cut at the cuffs to accommodate a girl who was now two or three sizes too big for them and on her feet boy’s sneakers that, judging by the three pairs of socks that were poking out of them, were much too big. Not exactly how he’d dress Will if he were taking him to somebody else’s house. 

At that moment Dr. Warthrop came bursting out of the door behind her that led to a hallway off of which was the dining room, parlor, and library. He looked as careworn as ever, hair greasy and disheveled, clothes unwashed, dark circles under his eyes. She jumped when he came in and tracked him with her eyes as he stalked passed her. 

“Morning, Dr. Warthrop,” James said, putting down the hotdish and mail on the overladen table, “Who’s- uh- who’s our guest?” 

Warthrop glowered at him, “Guest? What are you talking about? I have no guest.” 

James gestured toward the girl, “Well I meant her and whoever she came with.” 

Warthrop was rustling through papers from the table. Absentmindedly he picked up an old cup and sipped it’s contents. He spluttered and barked, “James, put on some tea.” 

“Of course, Doctor, but…” 

“But what, James? Have you not had this position long enough to know what I require of you? There is much to do this morning. These last two days were very nearly completely wasted. Snap to, James!” 

James was certainly not able to ignore a ten year old kid sitting in ratty pajamas and eating cereal, which he now noticed was dry, there never being any milk in Warthrop’s house. “Doctor, who is the girl?” 

Warthrop did not look up at from the papers he was going through and said only, “My daughter.” 

It was a good thing that James had put down the hotdish or he would have dropped it. “Your...your what, sir? Your- you have a-. I beg your pardon, sir, I didn’t know you...had a daughter.” 

Through all of this she was looking between them in utter silence. Now that he was a little closer she gave off a vague smell of liquor and cigarettes. That must have been something that came in on her hair and pajamas, since of all the terrible smells that found their way into Harrington Lane, those were not among them. 

Warthrop looked at him, “Nor was I until Friday evening. I am not certain why you are so concerned with her, James. She has nothing to do with you.” 

James rubbed his beard, “I- I guess not, sir...but...just surprising is all.” To say the least. His mind was reeling. Of course, he’d figured out something about what had gone on between his employer and Mrs. Chanler but other than that he’d never known Dr. Warthrop to have anything to do with women, let alone to have a kid someplace. If he’d been asked he would have assumed that if Warthrop had ever partaken in anything like that he’d have been a little...smarter about it. 

He smiled at the girl again and put his hand out to her, “I’m James Henry, I’m your dad’s assistant.” 

She stared at his hand but reciprocated neither with her own hand to shake it nor with her name. She just shuffled her feet. 

 

“Sir?” he asked.

“What is it now, James?” Warthrop asked in exasperation. 

“Just, she looks like she needs a little looking after is all. She smells like cigarettes.” 

“Yes, I had noticed. A remnant of her mother I assume.” 

Pressing his limits James asked, “Who is her mother, sir? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

Warthrop turned his back on James, shuffling more papers, “I do not remember her name.” 

James’ eyebrows raised so high they nearly disappeared under his messy hair. 

“What uh- what happened? I mean, why is she here?” James felt uncomfortable talking over her like she wasn’t there, but his curiosity was overpowering his politeness. 

“I am told there was some sort of dispute between her, her mother, and a gang affiliate. As the report reads, she murdered them both.” 

“The kid?” James asked, looking aghast at the tiny girl now wiping her nose with the back of her hand. 

Warthrop spun on him and snarled, suddenly vitriolic, “Was I unclear? Now, enough of this, James. She is of no concern of yours and there is much work to do.” He twisted his head at the girl, “Annalee, go upstairs and put on something less wretched, I detest that smell.” 

“Her name’s Annalee?” James asked, then he looked at her softly, “Nice to meet you, Annalee.” 

She shrank down on her chair and spooned more dry raisin bran into her mouth, dropping her head so her hair fell in front of her face. 

“Not a big talker, huh?” 

“No, she hasn’t spoken since I collected her.” 

She slid off her chair and edged around the wall of the kitchen, shuffling her feet and flicking her gaze between Warthrop and James. She made it all the way to the stairs before she bolted, sprinting up them and tripping immediately on her overlarge shoes and tumbling back to the bottom of the stairs. 

James, acting on the instincts learned by fatherhood, jumped into action, closing in on her in three big strides and leaning down to help her up, “You alright, kiddo?” he asked kindly. He expected her to act like his own Will when he’d taken a fall, brave little face and maybe some crying if there was a bad bump. But she did not react in anyway close to how his son might. 

When his hand got near her she swung out at him, her jagged nails cutting swathes in his wrist. At the same time she lashed out with her foot, kicking him hard in the shin. A blood curdling scream echoed out of her mouth and she scampered up the stairs and away from him, wild as a feral animal. 

He jumped back, clutching his wrist to his belly, “Woah, hey now!” 

She had flown up the stairs and he heard the slamming of a door. 

Warthrop watched from the kitchen. Deadpan he said, “She does not like to be touched.” 

“Ow, yeah, I figured that out.” 

“You ought to disinfect that.” 

“Yeah, I s’pose, maybe you ought to look in on her, Dr. Warthrop.” 

He reeled back, “Whatever for?” 

“She’s upset…” James said helplessly. 

“I have no experience with childrearing!”

“She’s your daughter, Dr. Warthrop.” 

He stiffened and glowered, “And I am sure she will be fine. Now snap to, James, I need you downstairs!” 

“Yeah, Doctor, I’ll be down in just a minute. I’ll just go and grab a bandaid and some antibiotic.” 

“See that you do,” Warthrop said briskly and disappeared into the basement. 

James went upstairs to the bathroom and washed out her nail marks on his wrist. He dug out the first aid kit and dabbed on some disinfectant then bandaged them up. He looked for a long moment at the locked bedroom door the little girl had disappeared into when he came out of the bathroom. But Dr.Warthrop was waiting. With great distress in his chest, he turned his back on the upstairs hallway and descended into the kitchen, where he made tea, and then even deeper into the basement. 

When he got there Warthrop was up to his elbows already in viscera, a medical mask obscuring half of his face, his stained lab coat pulled on over his grubby clothing. James took his seat on a stool next to the autopsy table and took up his pen, flipping open a spiral bound notebook. He found the next clean page, neatly labelled it, ‘September 23rd, 1999,’ and waited for Dr. Warthrop to begin his dictation. 

For an hour and a half he dutifully wrote down everything Warthrop said in his neat handwritting. Every notation carefully labelled and exact. Every other day, when he did this for Dr. Warthrop, his attention was absolute and unwavering. But this morning he could not bend his entire mind to the task. He kept thinking of the girl upstairs. Warthrop’s girl. That in and of itself was enough to steal away his attention. The great Dr. Pellinore Warthrop had a daughter. He thought of all the nights Dr. Warthrop spent lamenting that he would die forgotten, with no one to carry on his legacy. But if she grew up to be a quarter the scientist he was surely he would have someone on whom he could rest his hopes. 

But for now, she was just a kid. And a little kid, pint sized really. And she looked frightened and dirty. Absentmindedly he wrote down the numbers Warthrop was reading to him and thought that she would never have been given over to him if she’d killed her mother in anything other than self defense. Unwillingly he thought about little Will with a gun turned on Mary and recoiled at the thought. 

“James!” Warthrop barked, “What have you just written?” 

James snapped back to attention and looked at what he’d just written down, “Uh, unidentified parasite measuring three centimeters long and two point three millimeters in diameter.”

“Nothing then about the tackiness if their exteriors? For that is what I have just said. Are you entirely worthless, James?”

He went red in the face, “No, sir. Sorry, sir. I just- I’ll write it down now, sir.” 

Warthrop glowered at him, “Do not tell me you are still worried over the child.” 

James looked at him almost pleadingly, “It’s just that she’s all alone up there, sir. She could use some real clothing and maybe something to eat.” 

“Nonsense, she has only just eaten.” 

“All due respect, sir, but dry raisin bran. I bet she’d like something more substantial than that.” 

Warthrop laid his hands upon the autopsy table and leaned toward James, danger in his eyes, “Have I hired you to assist me or to babysit my offspring, James?” 

“...Assist you, sir.” 

“Then assist.” 

“Yes, sir.” Uncomfortably, James took back up his pen and continued taking dictation. He had managed to scrawl down another half line of figures before a resounding crash reverberated from the top floor of the house. 

James leapt up from his seat, but Warthrop only sighed and grimaced. “Leave it be, James,” he said in not much more than a growl. 

“Sir!”

 

Warthrop tore his gloves from his hands and threw them viciously onto the autopsy table, “Fine. _Fine_. But afterward I will brook no more distraction. This entire weekend has been almost entirely wasted circumventing her misbehavior.” 

Warthrop stalked upstairs, still in his stained labcoat, James on his heels. They went upstairs and Warthrop paused before her door, hand raised to knock. He took a long breath, steadied himself then knocked at the door. 

“Annalee, I am coming in.” Then, without waiting for a reply he turned the handle and pushed open the door. Or tried to. The door swung inward less than an inch before it was stopped dead, slamming into something on the other side. 

In anger he slammed the door several more time against what James took to be an upended wardrobe on the other side of the door. 

“Annalee!” he thundered, “Remove this obstacle at once!” 

He looked a terror: hair wild, labcoat bloodstained, battering down her door and shouting. James, having slightly more familiarity with children, thought privately that had there been any hope of coaxing her out of her room, Warthrop was fast destroying it. 

“Doctor? Doctor!” James interjected. 

Warthrop turned on him, eyes blazing, “What, James?” 

“I don’t know if you’re...I’m only saying there might be a better approach. All do respect, sir, but I think you’re scaring her.” 

Warthrop threw up his hands, “Would you prefer to attempt it? She is barely better than a wild animal.” 

James couldn’t quite bring himself to reprimand his master. But he thought it unfair to say the least to say something like that while she could hear him. He replaced Warthrop at the door. 

“Hey, Annalee? We heard a big crash. Are you okay in there?” He waited a long time and was met with only silence. “I bet you’re getting pretty hungry in there, huh? You want some lunch?” 

Warthrop glared at him, doing a good job of silently communicating his thoughts on taking another break for something as trivial as feeding his child. 

James carried on, “How about you change out of your pajamas and come on out? I’ll take you over to spend the day with my family, alright? My wife, Mary, will fix you up a great lunch and you can make friends with my son, Will.” He had some reservations about leaving her at home after her outburst. But what else was there to be done? “Can you let me know if that sounds good to you, kiddo? Just say ‘ok.’” 

So quietly that it almost couldn’t be heard she said, “....ok.” 

There was some rustling for a few minutes then she heaved the wardrobe far enough over that she could slip out the door. Her head was tucked so low her chin was nearly against her chest, hair falling down over her face. She’d changed out of the too small pokemon pajamas into something just as unsuitable. She was engulfed in a giant t-shirt that went to her knees and jeans so dirty they were no longer blue but a mottled green and grey. Under the thrice cuffed hems poked out those too big sneakers. 

James held in a sigh. He was very familiar with that particular shirt. It was one of Warthrop’s that he’d been been sent by the intolerable Kearns. She still smelled foul, partly like a dirty child and partly like cigarettes which he thought now must be coming from her hair. 

 

He looked at Warthrop, “Does she have any of her own clothes?” 

“Obviously,” he said, “She wore them this morning.” 

“Something other than pajamas?” 

“No, she was provided with nothing.” 

“Ok, how about I call Mary and run her over to my place, then we can get back to work?” 

Warthrop nodded, “That seems satisfactory.” 

“Ok, let me call her.” 

He went downstairs, and picked up the wireless, dialing his home number. 

“Hello, this is the Henry household,” Mary answered after four rings. 

“Hey, Mare,” James said, “How’s things?” 

“Didn’t expect a call from you, Jimmy,” she said, “Not often the doctor lets you out of his cave.” 

“Something odd’s come up on our end, Mary,” he said hesitantly. 

“Oh, James,” she sighed, “You only just got back two weeks ago, don’t tell me Warthrop is dragging you off already?” Exasperation tainted her voice as well as tiredness. 

“Nothing like that, sweetpea,” he said, then glanced over his shoulder to make sure Dr. Warthrop hadn’t come down the stairs and heard his term of endearment, “Odder than that really. I was hoping I could get your help with it.” 

“My help?” She asked sharply, “Jimmy-”

“Let me explain before you get fussy, Mary.” 

She sighed again, heavier this time, “Ok, Jimmy, explain then.” 

“Well, uh, I’m still wrapping my own head around it. I came into his kitchen this morning and there was, uh… a little visitor at the kitchen table.” 

“A visitor? Dr.Warthrop doesn’t take visitors except for that other doctor you hate so much.” 

“No, it’s not him. It’s uh- well she’s a kid.” 

“A kid? What do you mean a kid? You can’t possibly mean an actual child.” 

“I do, Mary. Can’t be much older than Will.” 

A few beats of silence followed this and James knew his wife well enough to know that she was pursing her lips, weeding out what she was thinking concerning the doctor and what she thought appropriate to say aloud. 

Hesitantly James carried on, “Its- she’s Warthrop’s kid.” 

“...What?” 

“I know, Mary.” 

“What...what could you possibly want me to do about it?” 

“Thought maybe you could take her for the afternoon?” He braced himself for her prolonged silence, which she always used to better effect than shouting. 

“Well for god’s sake she can’t stay _there_. Has the man even fed her?” 

James hedged for the sake of his employer, “He...made her breakfast.” 

“That is better than I would have expected, of course I’ll look after her James, do you..want me to come and get her?” 

“No, no,” he said quickly, knowing how much his wife disliked coming to the house when Warthrop was home, “We- I will bring her by. See you soon, pickle.” 

“See you, monkey.” 

He hung up and jumped badly when he saw Warthrop standing on the bottom step, lip curled in barely disguised disgust. It was the same face he always wore when he accidentally overheard a pet name exchanged between James and Mary. A blush flushed up James’ face and he awkwardly fumbled the phone back into its cradle. 

“Yeah, Mary will look after her,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’ll just take her over.” 

“Be back quickly, James. There is much to do.” Warthrop held himself so stiffly James would hardly have been surprised if cracks had appeared in his pale skin. Having worked for so many years with the man, James recognized the undercurrents of panic his his master’s demeanor. 

“Course, sir.” 

Annalee peaked out from behind Warthrop, those big dark eyes wide beneath her hair. So closely juxtaposed to him the resemblance was staggering, the biggest difference only that James couldn’t imagine the doctor ever looking quite so scared. 

“Alright, Annalee, you ready to go?” 

She nodded silently with the smallest possible movement of her head and shuffled her feet after him when he walked to the door. He stopped at the bottom of the porch stairs and looked back for her. She had stopped on the threshold and was swaying there, clenching and unclenching her little fists. 

“It’s okay,” James said soothingly, “I’ll bring you back this evening.” 

She turned and looked at Warthrop who gave her a sharp nod. She turned back to James, her breath quickening, jaw clenched. She rocked there, plagued by indecision. James took a step back up the stairs and she shuffled farther back away from him. 

“Okay, okay,” he said putting up his hands and backing away, “I get it.” He backed all the way down the steps and slowly, excruciatingly slowly, she followed. She scooted first out the door and then across the porch. She looked back at Warthrop who have a motion with his hand for her to get going. She scooted down one step and then a second and a third. Then she was on the walkway and shuffling after James in her overlarge shoes. 

In the broad light of day, outside of the house, she looked even more bedraggled than she had in Warthrop’s gloomy hallway. Closer to a ghoul than a girl. But she followed him four or five paces behind. He was glad that his house was within walking distance, he didn’t think all the encouragement in the world could have gotten her into a car with him. 

The trip took about three times as long as it usually did but finally he got her to his doorstep where he unlocked the door and held it open for her. 

“Mary!” he called inside. 

She raced to the door in an instant, eyes searching. She blinked in surprise when she saw the underfed and poorly clothed little thing shaking on her doorstep. Then she sighed, “Good lord, Warthrop.” 

The girl cowered immediately and Mary, seeing her mistake, corrected herself, “Not you, dear, come inside now, that’s it.” 

She shuffled in, shoulders still hunched. 

“I gotta go, Mary,” James said, “The doctor-”

“I know, I know, see you tonight, Jimmy.” 

“Love you bunches, pickle,” he said, kissing her cheek. And he was off, back to Dr. Warthrop’s dark house. 

Mary shut her front door and regarded the quivering specimen before her. She’d need something to wear, and new shoes. 

She crouched to the girl’s level and smiled, “I’m Mary Henry, it’s very nice to meet you.” 

She was met with only silence so she pressed on, “Do you have a name?” 

Slowly the girl looked up at her with eyes that were exactly the color of Dr. Warthrop’s but big and expressive rather than cold and dark. Then the girl nodded and said in a quiet voice, “I’m Anna.” 

Mary, of course, had a thousand questions. Who is your mother? What happened to her that you were left with Dr. Warthrop? Who in their right mind would leave a child with him? Have you always been this ragamuffiney or only since coming to Harrington Lane? Did a professional really meet Dr. Warthrop and then leave him with a child? Oh god in heaven did he really have a girlfriend at some point? None of these were appropriate to a little girl however, so she kept her silence. 

“Alright, Anna,” she said straightening and putting her hands on her hips, “First things first. You need to go and take a bath. And you need some clothes not meant for a man. You can wear some of my son’s things. He’s about your size.” 

She shook her head.

“I am sorry, young lady, but if you want lunch in this house you will have to be a bit cleaner than you are now. Aren’t you hungry?” 

Anna considered and then nodded. 

“Alright then, the bathroom’s just here, I’ll get you a towel. Mind you wash your hair.” 

Obediently, Anna took the offered towel and bundle of Will’s clothing then went into the bathroom. While she was busy, Mary fixed up some lunch, deciding on her homemade macaroni and cheese that Will always had fourth helpings of. 

In twenty minutes Anna appeared in the kitchen wearing Will’s t-shirt and jeans, hair falling wetly around her shoulders. 

“Look at you,” Mary said, tapping her wooden spoon on the side of the sauce pan and setting it on the spoon tray, “Fresh as a daisy. But you’re dripping on the carpet, sweetie.” 

Mary swooped on her with a towel and Anna allowed her to dry off her hair, shuffling her now stocking clad feet. 

“Alright, you sit right up here,” Mary said, pulling out a tall stool by the kitchen island. Anna scooted up. 

“Lunch has to cook for a couple more minutes, how about you let me braid your hair to get it up off your face.” 

Anna wiped her nose with the back of her hand, “Ok.” 

Mary went to the bathroom and came back with a comb and some of her own hair ties. She parted Anna’s long dark hair into two parts and set to work tying twin french braids. “There you go, sweetie.” 

Mary went back to the stove to scoop up lunch as Anna tentatively felt the braids on the top of her head. 

“....thank you, Mrs. Henry.”

Mary turned and smiled at her, “You’re welcome, dear heart. I hope you like macaroni.” She handed Anna a heaping bowl of mac and cheese. 

She nodded, “Yeah. It’s ok.” She poked at it and added, “I didn’t hear the microwave.” 

Mary frowned, “You don’t make Macaroni in the microwave, silly.” 

“Oh…” she took a big bite of the macaroni and grinned. The rest of her bowl disappeared in little more than seconds. 

Mary laughed and leaned against the counter, “You want more?”

Anna nodded happily. 

Mary scooped her some more which she shoveled down with the same tenacity she had shown with the first. 

“Alright, Anna, I’ve got to clean up the kitchen a little and then how would you like to help with whip up an apple pie?” 

Anna smiled again and hopped off the tall chair, “Ok. Can- Can I help clean up too? I’m good at cleaning up.” 

“Course you can,” she said. 

Mary flipped the latch on the dishwasher and opened it, steam curling out from the just washed dishes. “You want to hand me things, Anna and I’ll put them away?” 

“Ok,” she said and shuffled to the dishwasher. 

Too late, Mary said, “Wait just a minute, dear, they’ll be hot!” 

But Anna had already picked up a cereal bowl in her little hands. She gave a small cry and it slipped out of her hand, hitting the tile floor and shattering. Mary swooped forward, intending on lifting the stocking footed Anna out of the range of broken glass so she could clean it up. But at her first movement forward Anna cried out and hunched over, covering her head with her arms. 

In terrified breaths Anna wailed, “I’msorry. I’msorry. I’msorry.”

“Oh shh, it’s alright,” Mary said hurriedly in the softest voice she could, her heart rending at the sight, “It was just a mistake. Shh now.” 

Anna peaked out from between her arms, eyes looking even more giant than they had before. “...I didn’t mean to.” 

“I know, dear, it was too hot, it wasn’t your fault. Now I’m going to pick you up, okay? I don’t want you to cut your feet.” 

“Oh. Ok.” 

Anna allowed herself to be picked up and set on the carpet so that Mary could sweep up the glass. All the while Mary could feel Anna’s eyes on her, watching her with rapt attention. When she was done she touched the dishes in the dishwasher, “Alright, they should be cool enough, do you still want to help?” 

Anna nodded and tentatively crept back to the dishwasher. Finding them cool enough to hold without dropping she began handing them, with utmost care, one at a time to Mary who put them away in the cupboards. When they had emptied it they refilled it with dirty dishes and started it running again. 

“Alright, Anna, you want to help with the pie?” 

“Yes!” she said and scampered to the door where she shoved her feet back into those giant sneakers. 

“Where do you think you’re going, dear?” Mary said. 

Anna looked back at her with utter bafflement, “...to...for...pie.” 

“We’re going to make the pie.” 

She wilted, “....you can make it?” 

“Of course you can, silly, where do you think it comes from?” 

“McDonalds.” 

Mary didn’t know if she should laugh or not, the girl looked so earnest, “We will make pie a hundred times better than that!” 

She kicked off her shoes and came back to the kitchen. Mary situated her onto a stool over the sink and showed her how to peel apples with the safety peeler. She set to work with utmost attention, tiny frown on her forehead. She looked so much an adorable, braided version of the doctor that Mary had to stifle giggles. 

With Mary cutting and her peeling they made short work of the apples. Mary put them all into a bowl and took the pie crust dough she had made the night before out of the refrigerator. She pushed it down flat on a floured pastry sheet then moved Anna’s stool over to it. 

“Ok,” she said standing over Anna, “Hold the rolling pin like this,” she put Anna’s hands on the handles then covered them with her own, standing behind her with her arms around like she had done with her own son countless times. 

Together they started rolling out the dough into an even circle. 

Halfway through Anna stopped and tilted up her head to look at Mary. Mary looked back. Anna stared at her with such absolute bewilderment that Mary had no idea what to say. She looked at Mary like she was a being from another planet. Then the girl looked back at the dough and kept rolling it out. 

In short order they had the pie in the oven and Anna happily helped clean up the mess from its creation. They had just taken it out and set it on a cooling rack when the door opened. 

Mary turned with a smile toward her son, Will who had just come home from school. But Anna skidded away from the door, hiding behind the kitchen island and peering out. 

Will’s ‘Hi, Mom,’ was interrupted by his uncertain staring at the girl who was in his house and peeking at him. 

“Good day at school, Will?” Mary asked, as he put his backpack under the hook for coats and hung up his jacket. 

“Who is that?” he asked instead of answering. 

“Anna, come out,” she said, “Will, this is Anna, the doctor’s...the doctor’s daughter. Anna, this is my son, Will.” 

She scooted forward into sight. They stared at each other for a few moments then after his mother nodded at him encouragingly Will said, “Hi, Anna.” 

In hardly more than a whisper she answered, “Hi, Will.” 

“I’m was gonna go play baseball, Mom,” Will said, “...maybe Anna could come with.” 

“That sounds lovely, be back for supper, Anna can use your old mitt, it’s in the garage.”

“Come on, Anna,” Will said with a big grin. In a matter of minutes the two of them had disappeared through the door. 

As promised, they came home in time for dinner, both of them grass stained and grinning. 

“Mom, Mom!” Will said hurriedly kicking off his shoes and coming into the kitchen, “Anna is such a good batter! We won, Mom, she’s really good!” 

Anna didn’t say anything but looked quite pleased. 

Mary smiled at both of them, “Good, you’ll have to bring her lot’s of your games.” 

“Yeah!” 

“Now get cleaned up for dinner, your father called, he’ll be home in time to eat with us.” 

“Really? Ok!” Will dragged Anna into the bathroom and they both washed their hands and scrubbed the baseball dust from their faces. 

Will showed Anna how to help set the table and they were both sitting snug in their seats when James came home. 

Will leapt up from the table and launched himself into James’ arms who scooped him up and swung him around, “Hey, kiddo!” 

“Hey, Dad!” 

James set him down and ruffled his hair, “What’s for dinner, pickle? It smells good.” 

“Spaghetti and meatballs,” she said, “Now get your coat off and sit down, the kids are hungry.” 

James shrugged out of his jacket and looked over to where Anna was sitting at his kitchen table, staring at him. She looked like an entirely different kid cleaned off, with neat little braids in her hair and clean clothes. Not to mention a little color in her cheeks. 

“Nice to see you again, Annalee,” he said. 

She looked down at her plate and said nothing. 

“The doctor wants me to bring her back home,” he said. 

“Surely she can eat a little something first,” Mary said. 

James hesitated, “...He isn’t keen on waiting…”

Mary glowered, “She was ravenous when she got here, she’ll be having dinner before she goes back to that - house- and that is final.” 

James, already teetering, gave in to his wife’s demands and carried the steaming bowl of pasta to the table. 

Mary got Will settled, poured everyone milk and, finding her own seat, led them in grace. Anna’s eyes never left her. James watched her the entire dinner. She said nothing, but looked up constantly at Mary as though she were the Mother Mary herself. 

“Anna was such a big help today,” Mary said to James, “Helped me clean up and might even be a better apple peeler than Will.” 

She flushed with excessive pride and straightened in her seat, staring at Mary in adoration. 

“There’s pie?” Will asked joyfully. 

“If you clean your plate,” his mother’s eyes zeroed in on him, “William James, if you put another green bean in your pocket instead of eating it you won’t have pie for a month.”

Will sulked and shoved a forkful of beans into his mouth. 

When dinner was finished Mary brought the pie over, cutting them each a generous piece. 

James beamed at her, “This looks great, Mare.” 

Anna poked at it then, following Will’s lead, took a giant bite. She swallowed it and exclaimed, “Holy shit!” 

Will gasped and Mary and James both jumped and looked at her. James laughed, “Bout sums it up, huh!” 

Mary frowned at her slightly, “I’m sorry, Anna, but you cannot use that sort of language in this house. Is that understood?” 

Anna looked at her aghast, “...I’m sorry, Mrs. Henry...I won’t do it again.” 

“Good girl.” 

Anna melted under even this small praise and looked at Mary for a long time before going back to her pie.

James got up when they were all finished, “Alright, Anna, let’s get you home.” 

She got up and Mary’s heart nearly broke when Anna took a steadying, dutiful breath and put on her shoes. Halfway on she ventured, “....do you need help cleaning up the kitchen, Mrs. Henry?” 

“No, sweetie, I think James ought to be getting you back home.” 

“Oh. Ok.” With a hanging head she followed James back out the door, looking back longingly at Mary and Will who were loading up the dishwasher, then headed down the street back the her home. 

James opened the door for her and she went back into the old dirty house. 

“See you tomorrow, Anna.” 

“...can I go back to your house tomorrow?” 

James looked at her sort of sadly, “Sorry, Anna, your dad’s got something even better lined up for you! A great big adventure.” 

“Oh…” she didn’t say goodbye, just shuffled back in the house. 

Warthrop was sitting in the kitchen, tea in his hand scribbling over printouts when she entered. He briefly looked at her then went back to his work. She stared at him from the kitchen doorway, tugging on her braids. 

He looked back up, “Is there something you require?” 

She looked down. 

He sighed in irritation, “Speak, you pestilential urchin, or cease that intolerable staring!” 

She looked back up at him, glowering now. She seemed to take a few minutes to put together what she wanted to say then she murmured, “You’re sending me away.” 

He looked back at his work, “Of course I am, I can not provide you with care. On the morrow you will be going by train to the St. Emmeret’s Academy for Youngsters, it is the finest elementary preparatory academy in the eastern United States. 

“Huh?” 

He lost his temper, “A school. I am sending you to a school. You will live there. They will provide you with an exceptional education.” 

“...I don’t wanna go.” 

“I have no interest in what you want.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him and slunk out of the room. 

***

Bright and early the next morning James came through the door, “Morning, Dr. Warthrop!” he said, closing the door behind him. In response he heard a muffled pounding. “Dr. Warthrop?” 

James came through the kitchen and swore. The big kitchen table had been shoved across the room, spilling its many teetering piles of papers across the floor. It had been moved across the door to the basement locking an obviously irate Dr. Warthrop inside. For it was from there the pounding came, vicious and unyielding against the heavy door. 

“Just a minute, Doctor!” James said and hurriedly pulled the table out of the way of the door with a great heave. 

Warthrop slammed the door open, hair ascance, shaking. “That incorrigible deviant!” 

He shoved passed James and stalked up the stairs, James at his heels. 

Without knocking he threw open Anna’s bedroom door. A plain dark duffle back sat fully packed on the floor but she was so far under the bed that she could barely be seen. 

Warthrop dropped onto the ground in front of the bed, reached under it and dragged her out by the wrist. 

She shouted and tried to pull free but his grip was vicelike. She screeched, twisting and kicking but he hoisted her up until she dangled in the air, kicking and spitting at him. 

James was taken aback at the return of the feral child when only yesterday she had been so docile and helpful. Her braids her no longer neat but fuzzy and half undone. 

Warthrop thundered at her, “Settle down, you foul creature. You will get on that godblasted train to that godblasted school and no amount of tantrums will get you out of it.” 

She howled and kicked him hard between the legs. He shouted and dropped her. She fled, bolting toward the door. James caught her around the middle, “Shh, hey now, come on.” 

She fought James’ hold but, with her back held against his chest she was powerless verses his greater strength. She wriggled a little but then slumped. 

“James,” Warthrop barked, “Take her to the station, get her on the train. Do not come back until it is done.” 

It took every ounce of cajoling and strongarming that James could muster to get her to walk herself to the train station. But she did, dragging her feet and pouting. When they walked passed James’ house to get to the station she stared at it longingly until they turned the corner. When it was out of sight all of the fight fell out of her and she allowed James to get her onto the train, duffle bag under her seat. 

“Alright, Anna, there will be someone from the school who will meet you when you stop, okay?” 

She didn’t say anything, just hung her head. 

_______________________________________________________________

The next three weeks returned to normal, Warthrop acted very much as though he did not have a recently discovered and poorly behaved daughter off at school. He neither mentioned her nor brooked any discussion of her on the part of his assistant. 

James, as concerned after the girl as his wife was, found this a trying example to follow. But he did his best to keep out of what was, at the end of the day, the doctor’s private business. 

On the third Wednesday since she had been sent away James and Warthrop were interrupted from their work by the phone ringing. Looking up from the corpse in front of him Warthrop said, “Answer that, James.” 

James plucked the cordless from its cradle by the basement desk and answered, “Doctor Warthrop’s residence, this is James Henry.” 

“Yes, hello, this is Abigail Forester, the superintendent of St. Emmeret’s, I need to speak to Dr. Pellinore Warthrop, please, this is an urgent matter.” 

James covered the mouthpiece and said, “Doctor? It’s the superintendent of Anna’s school, says she needs to talk to you.” 

“Take whatever message it is.” 

“Doctor Warthrop is busy at the moment, ma’am, I will take a message for him.” 

“I am sorry, sir, but I need to speak to him directly.” 

“Sir,” James said to Warthrop, “She says-”

Warthrop interrupted him in a commanding voice loud enough to carry over the phone, “Whatever the devil you need tell my assistant at once.” 

On the other end she huffed, “Well...this is a delicate matter...there was a bout of trouble with Annalee, she had gotten into a fight with a boy that resulted in him being hospitalized for a concussion. We had put her in her dormitory to await a decision regarding her but when we went to fetch her- well- she is gone.” She hesitated, it obviously costing her a great deal to admit that she had lost a child, “She is nowhere on the grounds, we have, of course, alerted the police. But she is nowhere to be found.” 

James looked up at Warthrop, “Doctor, Anna ran away. They can’t find her.” 

Warthrop looked up, “What?” He hissed. 

He peeled off his gloves and snatched the phone from James, “Do you mean to tell me that I have entrusted my child to you and you did not have the ability to keep track of her? She is an eleven year old girl. Has she outwitted you? Were you outfoxed by a mere child? What good are you if you cannot even keep a child where you put her?” 

James could hear the woman responding but couldn’t make out what she was saying, finally Warthrop snapped, “Yes, I know she is a difficult child, that is why I put her in your care. YES, obviously I wish to be kept informed on the police’s progress in finding her, for god’s sake…And what would I do at the school? I have no idea of the grounds or surrounding area.” Without another word he hung up and dropped the phone onto the desk. 

He stood very still for awhile, pulling at his bottom lip, then sprang back to his autopsy table, shoving his hands back into fresh gloves and resuming his work. 

“Sir-” James ventured, “Do you- is there anything to be done about Anna?” 

Warthrop sneered at him, “If there were, do you not think I would be doing it?” 

“Of course, sorry sir.” 

After that the school and then the police called with daily updates on the hunt for the young girl, but, despite their best efforts, neither hide nor hair of her could be found. Through it all Warthrop continued his work, although he was even more snappish and critical than usual. 

For her part, Mary was beside herself in worry, it was her who sent a picture of her out to be posted on milk cartons and missing child posters. It was not a very flattering picture, the only one they had being her picture from her brief stint in the foster system when she looked like a half starved wraith. But still, she could not be located. 

A month crept by, and then another and a third and no word of her came. The police stopped calling with updates. Warthrop began oscillating between seeming relieved and stricken. 

In the fourth month of her absence James sat at the kitchen table, clacking away at Warthrop’s laptop, typing up his notes from the previous case. He was only two pages in when his thoughts were interrupted by the revving of a very familiar motorcycle in the driveway. 

“Goddamn it,” he swore, glowering and standing up, “This is the last thing we need.” 

He knew exactly who was on that godforsaken motorcycle. The irritating and smug Dr. Kearns come to be a plague upon the house. 

He stalked toward the door as Warthrop came in from the library, trying and failing not to look excited. The doctor had a mile wide soft spot for John Kearns that James, for the life of him, could not fathom. James opened the door, far preferring that than to let Kearns smugly break in. 

He choked when he looked out, “Doctor Warthrop!” he said, “Come here!” 

Warthrop swooped toward him, peering over his shoulder. 

It was indeed Doctor Kearns, swathed impeccably in the highest fashion, his hair not a whit ruffled. He had just swung himself off of his motorcycle and grinned rakishly at Dr. Warthrop in the doorway. 

“My good, Pellinore!” He said, “Missing something are we?” 

Warthrop along with James, gaped, for climbing off the motorcycle behind him was tiny and leather clad Anna. She tugged her little helmet off and gave Kearns a broad grin, which he returned. 

He lifted his bag out of the compartment on his bike and handed it to her, “Put this upstairs for me, will you, sweetling?” 

“Sir, yes, sir!” she said happily, taking it. 

“Good girl.” 

She gave him the same adoring look she had once given Mary and obediently she carried it up the stairs of the porch. 

Flabbergasted by her willingness and her mere presence Warthrop stepped out of her way, allowing her to shuffle passed him, hoisting Kearns’ bag. 

Kearns came up the stairs after her, sauntering passed James to stop inches from Warthrop. In a low and teasing voice he said, “You have been altogether more naughty than I’d have expected, Pellinore,” he tsked and winked, “Good thing the invaluable Jack is around to clean up after you.” 

 

TBC


	32. Sibling Bonding

Will Henry sneered and crossed his arms, shifting a little uncomfortably in his unfamiliar dress shoes. Across the dance floor at the Society’s annual ball twirled the excruciatingly beautiful Lilly Bates. He had pleaded with Dr. Warthrop to allow him to miss just the ball, but Warthrop had refused, citing his need for his assistant at his side. Will didn’t see why, Warthrop was going to spend the entire night giving all of his attentions to Dr. Kearns and soundly ignoring Will. But he had learned long ago that Dr. Warthrop did not have sympathy in the matters of the heart, and he did not much care that Lilly had broken up with Will only less than six months ago. 

Will watched her toss her curls back and laugh at something her skinny plain faced date had said and Will snatched a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, glancing around to make sure Warthrop had not seen him. Sixteen was far too young for champagne officially, but Will had managed to down four so far. They had left a tingling in his skin and warmth in his belly. 

He knocked back the drink before anyone could catch him and abandoned the glass. 

“Fuck him and fuck Warthrop,” he muttered to himself. Warthrop had been a terror lately. For the   
first time in years Will had fantasized about leaving. He even had a place he could go. Anna was in an apartment in New York City for college. She would certainly understand. He could turn up with a backpack and cuss and say, “I can’t fucking take him,” and she’d let him crash on her couch. 

He’d gone so far as to look up the price of train tickets. Not that he had his own money. But she’d have even lent him that. He hadn’t gone, of course, and he knew he wouldn’t. Even at the depths of his anger at Warthrop he wasn’t going to leave. 

Warthrop had taken a turn for the worse when Anna had left for school two months ago. He had become even more intensely critical than Will had ever thought possible. Will, of course, remembered a time when he had lived at Harrington Lane and Anna had not. Had he been that bad then? Or had Anna driven Warthrop to such desperate lengths that without her to vent his distorted antipathy toward Will became a hapless victim? 

_“Will Henry, devil take you, Will Henry, have you anything between your ears but dust mites? How many years have you been assisting me and yet you still cannot manage even the most remedial of tasks? Look at these notes? Is there something you notice? Can you concentrate on something that is not your supper for long enough to diagnose your own insufficiency?”_

_Will who had typed the notes that were now being thrust under his nose at four in the morning after more than twenty hours of straight work and no dinner took them and glanced over them. “What’s the matter with them, sir?” he asked, straining to keep the edge out of his voice._

_Warthrop snatched them back and whapped Will over the head with them, “What is the matter- Will Henry have you been struck blind as well as idiotic? Are you little more than a dog that has been trained to walk on its hind legs?”_

_“Sir, what’s wrong with the-”_

_“The measurements, Will Henry! The feet and inches!” He whapped Will again._

_Will grabbed the notes and looked at them. It took all of his self restraint not to smack Warthrop back. He’d mislabeled the feet and inches markings, using one apostrophe for inches and two for feet. “I’ll change it, sir,” he said wearily._

_“You are a disappointment, Will Henry! It is an insult to this house and the name of Warthrop that you even reside under this roof!”_

_Will had thought this was a bid of an overreaction to what he considered a minor oversight. He hadn’t had it in him to respond without a caustic comment to he’d just opened the now ancient laptop and begun to fix up his mistakes, doing his best to put in a ‘Yes, sir,’ every time Warthrop took a breath in his ensuing tirade._

He had heard the sting, ‘insult to the name and house of Warthrop,’ many times from Warthrop’s mouth, just never directed at him. Anna had always had the pleasure of being a disappointment to the name of Warthrop. She had been in a position to steer into the skid. She generally seemed to take momentous joy in being every inch the disappointment she was named. She had even once, foreseen the insult and excitedly said it along with him then offered her hand for a high five. He had, of course, not taken it and it had added at least half an hour to the ensuing tirade, but she had seemed proud of herself. 

It had been her, after all, that had stuck up the report card announcing her second failure of Algebra on the refrigerator. She was also too smart to have left cigarettes in her jacket pockets that many times when she left it hung over the back of a kitchen chair if she did not mean them to be found. But then, she’d always been a little more willing to face Warthrop’s wrath than Will. 

He’d screamed at her for thirty minutes in the second half of her senior year when she’d been sent home early from school with bloody knuckles and a split lip. ‘ _I like the rush, pops, what can I say?’_ That was what she had said. But Will had asked Malachi later if he’d seen the fight. He’d had a different story. A greasy burnout asking her how she liked living in a homo-house-of-horrors. 

But regardless of her complicated relationship with Warthrop, he had become unbearable in her absence and Will was worn to the quick. He was in no position to deal with that brat who was now pressing his cheek to Lilly’s and whispering in her ear. 

He tried to filch another champagne but was jostled as his hand extended and rather than surreptitiously sneaking another glass he knocked all three glasses on the silver tray over, spilling them across the waiter who held them. 

“What the hell?” he said, rounding on whoever had been unfortunate enough to run into him. 

“Sorry, man,” Erik Torrance said nonchalantly, then froze, looking at exactly who he was talking to. 

Will’s temper leapt up at the sight of him, broad shoulders pushing the limits of his dress shirt, his hair perfectly disheveled. 

Will knew he was no match for him, Erik had nearly a foot on him and more than fifty pounds of muscle. Regardless, he shoved him back by the shoulders and, without giving him a moment to get his hands up, clocked him across the jaw. 

Bigger and stronger though Erik might be, Will did know how to punch. Anna had taught him and Dr. Kearns had corrected them both. Erik’s head snapped to the side and he stumbled back. 

“Are you fucking serious, Henry?” He asked, his hand coming up to his cheek. 

The people around them had pressed back away from them as the boys squared off. 

“You cheated on my goddamn sister,” Will snarled. Usually he was more reserved in calling her his sister. He would never have called Warthrop his father, he had never felt Warthrop was his father. But it was hard to deny his and Anna’s bond when she ruffled his hair and called him ‘baby bro.’ Or when she took the fall for him when he screwed up something for Warthrop. And this asshole had reduced her to a shaking sobbing wreck. In Will’s champagne addled state, Erik deserved to get fucked up for that. 

“Shit, Will, are we doin’ this?” Erik asked, circling. 

Will charged him, getting him again the the cheek and once in the stomach before jumping back out of his reach. Erik swung around at him and caught his shoulder, shoving his superior weight at him and knocking Will to the ground. 

The traditional fight had broken out around them, turning the elegant ball into a tumult of fists and improvised weapons. Will paid no attention, a two hundred pound football player had him pinned to the floor. 

Employing a trick Dr. Kearns had painstakingly taught him, he flipped Erik over and the two of them exchanged a series of brutish attacks until they were hauled apart. Erik pulled off by his father and Will wrenched up and backward by Warthrop on one arm and Kearns on the other. 

“Shove a firecracker up your fucking ass, Torrance!” He snarled, quoting his absent sister. 

“Get a goddamn grip, Henry!” 

“Will Henry, I demand you stop this nonsense at once!” Warthrop hissed at him. 

“Now does see the appropriate moment to throw in the towel, Willy,” Kearns said at his other side. 

Will lurched down, slumping his shoulders and letting his guardians lead him off and away from Torrance. His eye was swelling and would be blacked as soon as the bruising had enough time to form. 

They led him into the lobby and released him to stalk several steps away and sulk, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“What has possessed you, Will Henry?” Warthrop snarled. 

“Fuck Erik Torrance.” 

Kearns smirked, “Well I cannot entirely disagree with you,” Kearns reached out to put a steadying hand on Will’s shoulder. 

Will flinched away from the touch, “Shit, can you two just leave me alone for one minute?” 

Both of them reeled back, glancing at each other. Will Henry was usually steadfast and dutiful, not aggressive and vitriolic. 

“Will Henry, unless you have forgotten,” Warthrop began in a dangerous tone, “I am your superior and your elder-”

“Just give me one goddamn evening, can you?” 

“Have you been drinking, Will Henry?” Warthrop asked coldly. 

“Yeah, alright! I told you I didn’t want to go and you made me come anyway so this is what you get.” He turned away from them, uncharacteristically not asking for permission to leave, but four champagnes had loosened his rebellion more than a little. Kearns put a hand on Warthrop’s chest to keep him from following after. Will swiftly exited the lobby and stalked away onto the New York City street, shoving his hands in his pockets against the cold. 

He went a couple of blocks, swearing under his breath every few steps, anger pulsing in his veins in heretofore unfelt intensity. He was angry at Warthrop for being Warthrop, he was angry at Kearns for letting Warthrop be Warthrop. He was angry at Anna for going to college and angry at Torrance for cheating on her. He was angry at Lilly for breaking up with him and angry at her new boy for taking his place. God, he was just angry.

He trudged down another street and he saw them. Lilly and her date. He had her backed up against a wall, kissing her, his hands in her dark hair. Will felt a hot surge of vitriol streak through his blood and he pressed himself against the building to his right, keeping out of their line of sight. He watched Lilly extricate herself from him and bid him goodnight, giving him a final searing kiss and catching a cab, leaving him alone on the sidewalk. Will saw him grin after her and he hopped off the curb, crossing the street to continue on his way home. His blood hot in his veins, Will followed. 

The boy went into a little and poorly lit park with Will hot on his heels. Will picked up his speed, catching up to the boy as he crossed a low bridge over a stream. 

“Hey!” he shouted, pulling the boy around by the shoulder and punching him before he could react. 

The boy spluttered and stepped back, throwing up his arms, “Just take my wallet, whatever!” 

“You pathetic fucking slug,” Will said, shoving him. 

He was knocked back against the bridge’s guardrail and Will stepped up, hemming him in, “I got a question for you, kid,” he said, reminding himself of Anna with his vernacular. 

“What? What?! Wait...aren’t you from the ball? Aren’t you Warthrop’s boy?” 

Will rammed him back again, pressing him hard against the rail, “You fucking Lilly? Huh!” 

“What? That is none of your business!” 

Will, more than a match for this adversary flipped him around and lifted him by the collar and belt, tipping him over the edge of the railing until he was dangerously far out. 

He squealed, “What the hell? What is wrong with you!” 

“You better answer me, buddy, are you fucking Lilly Bates?” 

“Let me go! You’re out of your fucking mind!” 

Will tipped him farther over, almost far enough that Will’s strength would not be sufficient to keep him up and a hand flashed out and grabbed the boy’s shirt wrenching him back. Two feet on the ground, the boy twisted away from Will and sprinted into the dark. 

“You and me have gotta talk,” Anna, whose hand had saved the boy, said, stepping between Will and his fleeing victim.

“Yeah?” He said roughly, “About what?” 

“How the Yankees are doing this year? The bee plague? Hanging a kid over a bridge? Whatever you want.” 

She gave a backwards half leap, sitting herself on the guardrail she’d just pulled Lilly’s boyfriend off of. She patted the patch of rail beside her. 

Begrudgingly, Will pulled himself up beside her. 

She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her jacket pocket and smacked them on her palm a few times before pulling one out and putting it between her teeth. She cradled the end, lighting it with a zippo and exhaling a stream of smoke. She held the package out to Will. 

He hesitated then took one and let her light it for him, “Only because the smell will piss off Warthrop,” he said. 

She grinned and said around the cigarette, “That’s the spirit.” 

They smoked their cigarettes in silence for awhile, Will trying not to choke on his. He untied his formal bowtie and let it hang loose around his neck. 

“So what’s got you hanging dumbass boys off bridges? Isn’t that the sort of disreputable, morally abject thing you’re supposed to leave to me?” 

“Well you’re not goddamn around to do it,” he grumbled. At sixteen, his frame was very slight and his stolen drinks were still affecting him. 

“You been drinking, Will?” 

“Yeah.”

She sighed, “How very un-Will Henry-like.” 

“Yeah, well I’m pissed.” 

She looked over at him, “‘Bout what?” 

He took a big drag on his cigarette and breathed the smoke hard through his teeth, “Everything. I’m just angry, Anna.” 

“You want more?” 

“More what?”

“Liquor.” 

He answered immediately, “Yeah.” 

“Alright, come one, I’ve got some at my place.” 

“I don’t want to go to your goddamn apartment.” 

She sighed, “You mad I went to school or what?” 

“No. Yes.” 

“Ok, get back at me by drinking my hard earned liquor.” 

“You’re not of age, how’d you get liquor?” 

She laughed, “You’ll figure it out, Billy Boy. But you want some?” 

“Lead the way.” 

She did, leaping off the railing. He trailed after her, finishing his cigarette in half the time it took her to get through hers. Silently, she offered her pack to him again, he took another and she lit it for him again. 

“You’re gonna have to get your jacket dry cleaned to get that smell out,” she said idly. 

“Good, fuck Warthrop.” 

“He ought to just pick you up a new one, it’s short in the sleeves.” 

He repeated himself, “Good, fuck Warthrop.” 

Her cigarette between her teeth, she grinned at him, “When did you start seeing things like that?” 

“He’s been a nightmare, Anna.”

“Oh yeah? Hey, slow down on that cigarette, you’ll make yourself sick.” 

“Shut up, I’ll do whatever I want,” but he did slow down on his second. After all, not only was it his second cigarette of the evening, but his second in his entire life. It had always been Anna who had seen if she could toss butts down from her window to get them to land on top of Warthrop’s car. 

She took him to her place, a tiny studio apartment a few blocks from her school and directed him to sit on the fire escape outside the window. She joined him a few minutes later with a bottle whiskey and a bottle of gin. 

“Pick your poison, baby bro,” she said, offering him both of them. 

“I’ve never had either.” 

“Whiskey first,” she said and let him knock some back. He choked and spluttered but swallowed it down. 

“Shit, that’s horrible.” 

“You get used to it,” she said, drinking some herself, much more smoothly than he had. She sat down beside him, their legs dangling off the edge of the fire escape. “Here,” she said, handing him the gin, “This next.” 

He tried some of that and swore again, “That’s worse, just gimme the whiskey, and another cigarette.” 

She got him a third cigarette and they passed the whiskey between each other for a few minutes until the four or five drink of it Will had had started to hit him. If he thought champagne warmed him up, it was nothing to this. 

“I just try to goddamn hard,” he said, holding his cigarette between his two fingers like she did, “Fuck. I just.” 

“Yeah, man, I get it,” she said, snatching the whiskey out of his hand after he took a long, sustained drink of it and surreptitiously putting it out of his reach. “Warthrop’s a dick, but go easy, he’s pretty damaged.” 

“Why don’t you come home for awhile so he can remember what it’s like to have an actual disappointment around?” Will would never have said it without that amount of liquor in his blood and even then he felt the sting of his words as soon as he’d said them. 

But Anna only laughed, “Shit, you ought to drink more often. Why don’t I call him in a couple days and tell him I’m dropping out of school, you think that’d get you a break?” 

“Shit, are you?” He asked, picking up her tendency to start sentences with an expletive. 

“Nah, I like school, I like the city, I like living alone.” 

“No room for a snot nosed little brother huh?” he asked, his voice sounding much more pathetic than he’d like. 

“Shut up, dork, of course there is. Here,” she got up and went inside, coming back after a few moments of absence. She sat back down and pressed a key into his palm. 

“What’s this?” 

“Dumbass,” she said fondly, “It’s a key to my place, come whenever you want. You wanna stay a couple of days? I can get you a ticket home.” 

“Really? Where’d you get money?”

“You think Warthrop is paying for me to live off campus? I work.” 

“Where the hell do you work?” 

“I do this and that. Cover some shifts at this sketchy little shooting range, and there’s this weird hole in the wall club I work at sometimes.” 

“You’re such a disappointment to the Warthrop name,” Will laughed.

She grinned, “Baby boy, I’m the illegitimate daughter of a stripper whose name my dad didn’t remember by the time he got hom, being a disappointment to the Warthrop name is just living up to my birthright.” 

Will laughed even harder at that and took the gin now that the whiskey was out of his reach, knocking back what must have been at least two shots.” 

“Yeah, I’ll talk to dad, I’ll tell him I need you for something. But seriously, give that to me,” She said ousting the gin bottle from him and putting it by the whiskey.

“Thanks, Anna. I just- I just need a break you know?” 

“S’not like you’ll be fit to travel tomorrow.” 

“What’dyou mean?” 

“You just downed at least six shots of whiskey a few of gin after however much champagne and three cigarettes? You’re going to be breaking in the floor of my bathroom tonight, kid.” 

“Shit.” 

She laughed and ruffled his hair, which he didn’t have the frame of mind to pretend to hate. 

Boldly he said, “I punched Torrance for you.” 

“Is that where you got the black eye?” 

“Yeah.” 

She slung her arm over his shoulder, “Will Henry, you goddamned sweetheart.” 

He shrugged, “Yeah, well, fuck with my sister I fuck with you.” 

She put out the end of her cigarette on the fire escape and said, “Stop swearing so much, Will.” 

He laughed caustically, “You’re one to talk!” 

“Yeah, well, if I send you home sounding like that I’ll get written off as a bad influence.” 

“You gave me cigarettes and booze. You _are_ a bad influence.” 

“You want another by the way?” She asked, offering her pack. 

“Yeah,” he said, inadvisedly taking another. 

“Look, Will,” she said, “You gotta just let yourself be mad at him. You’re not betraying him to get pissed off when he’s an asshole. Just get mad. You’ll go back and say ‘yes, sir,’ and do his notes for him and whatever.” She let him brood for a long moment then added, “You’re not betraying your dad either.” 

Will fiddled with his cigarette and whispered, “He hated cigarettes.” 

Anna drew out another one for herself too and let Will stare at his hands. 

“He never got mad at Warthrop.” 

Anna started slowly, “Your dad chose to work with him, Will, you didn’t. Your dad wasn’t sixteen either. And besides, how do you know he never got mad at him? Because he never told a ten year old boy?” 

Will sniffed, “I miss him all the time, and mom, and home. It’s like there’s this ten year old kid that had this normal life that just hangs out under my skin, waiting for them to come back.” 

Anna didn’t say anything.

“Every time something changes I just feel like...like I’m farther away from them.” 

Anna reached out and put her hand over his where it was braced on the fire escape. He looked over at her, “Do you...do you still miss your mom?” 

“You know I killed her right?” 

“Doesn’t mean you don’t miss her.” 

“You know what, Will?” 

“Huh?” 

“I loved it when Warthrop yelled at me about my grades.”

“Why?”

“Look, Will, sure, I’d be slick if Warthrop were a nice guy. If he was a normal guy looking after his dead best friend’s kid and he sent you to school and didn’t ask you to help him with his work and never made you stay up late and go on dangerous jobs. He could not yell at you and get all self centered and say such shitty things. But he does. He’s an asshole, he’s selfish and destructive and mean. But he gives a shit and he’s what we’ve got.” 

Will scooted over and dropped his head on her shoulder, “Yeah, he’s what we’ve got.” 

She reached up and scratched his hair, “Just be mad for awhile.” 

“You give shitty advice.” 

She laughed, “You ever gotten less mad because you tried not to be mad?” 

He pouted, “No. Gimme the whiskey.” 

“You’ve had enough.” 

“Screw you. I’m mad at you too.” 

“What d’you want me to do, Will?” she asked, “Stay home and not go to school, just hang out with dad for the rest of my life?” 

He shrunk down, “No. I miss you.” 

“I miss you too, Will.” 

“The nightmares came back.” 

“About your mom?” 

He lay back on the metal fire escape, throwing an arm over his eyes, “Yeah. Shouting at me in the fire. You said you’d always be there.” The liquor was catching up to him and the fire escape felt like it was spinning around him. He clung to Anna’s arm.

“I’m sorry, Will. You can call me if you want.” 

“It’s not the same. We’re gonna fall off.” 

“World spinning a little bit there, Will?”

“Yes, I feel sick. Gimme another cigarette.” 

“No way, kid, get up, let’s get you inside.” She got up and helped him to his feet, guiding him through the window. He caught his foot on the sill and fell in a jumbled heap on her floor. 

“I’m gonna puke, Anna,” he said from the floor. 

She laughed, “That’s what you get when you bum half your sister’s cigarettes and take a thousand shots of her whiskey.” 

He whined on the floor and clutched his stomach. She picked up a trash can and set it down in front of him. He pulled himself up onto it and puked into it. 

He peered up pathetically at her, “Can you get my phone? It’s in my jacket.” 

“No way, I’m confiscating your phone until morning. The only people you might call are Warthrop or Lilly, both of which would be stupid.” 

“I just want to call Lilly and tell her her new boyfriend is a shitstain.” 

She went to her kitchen and came back with two glasses of water, one she handed to Will, who used it to clean out his mouth. “How about tomorrow night we go to this gig up at my school and I find you a smoking hot college babe, you can take pictures with them and ‘accidentally’ send them to Lils. How’s that sound?”

He grinned then doubled over his trash can again, “Is it like this every time you drink?” 

“Yes it is, Will Henry,” she said confidently, “You ought never do it without your brave big sister around to look after you.” 

“What time is it, Annie?” He mumbled.

“Two in the morning.” 

Will tried to heave himself up and fell back down, “I have to get to the hotel. I gotta be at the- uh- the whatever… the talking tomorrow.” 

She laughed again, “Shit, if you think you’re making it to the colloquium you’ve got another thing coming.” 

He groaned then cut himself off to puke again into the basket. “No, Warthrop will kill me if I don’t come.” 

“True, but he’ll also kill you if you turn up then puke on him, so you know, pick your poison.”

Forgetting Anna had already taken it, Will patted his pockets for his phone, “I gotta call him.”

“That is just a terrible idea, Will. Maybe the worst I have ever heard.”

He looked up at Anna with wide raving eyes, “Anna. Anna. He’ll kill me. He’ll _kill_ me. I have to make it. He’s speaking, Anna. I have to be there.” 

“Slow down, Will, I’ll call him, alright?” 

“No. No. Anna he hates you, you can’t.” 

She stood up and he followed her with his eyes, “Anna, Anna, he doesn’t hate you. I didn’t mean that.” 

“It’s fine, Will,” She said shortly, “But someone has to and it can’t be you, so I guess I’m what you got.” She flipped out his phone and called Warthrop. 

Jarringly from the other side he answered, “Will Henry, were the devil are you?” 

“Not quite Will Henry,” she said, sidling into the kitchen. 

“Who the hell is it then?” he snapped. 

“It’s Anna, you dick, your kid.” 

“Oh...Annalee. Why are you calling me on Will Henry’s phone?” 

“He’s um...indisposed at the moment. I’ll bring him back before you guys take off for home.” 

“What? No. Absolutely not, Anna, I require his presence tomorrow.”

“Looks like you’re shit out of luck, because he ain’t makin’ it.”

“That is not a word, Anna, as I have told you many times. And you shall tell me at once what plagues my assistant.” The edge in his voice made Anna suspect that Warthrop might already be privy to what was plaguing his darling assistant. 

She clicked her lighter absently. 

“Anna. What was that noise? Have you taken to smoking again? Have you a brain between your ears? Not only is it, as I have pointed out many times before, a habit of disgusting stench, it is a carcinogen -”

“-and increases my chances of biting it young by like a thousand times, whatever. You’ve met me, do you really think I’m going to die from cancer?” 

“Anna, whether or not your uncomprehending teenage mind can grasp it, one can succumb to malignant tumors regardless of the number of leather jackets in one’s closet.” 

“Shit, are you for real? You should be a doctor.” 

He sighed loudly. 

She laughed, “Come on, dad, you know I’m gonna get revenge murdered before fifty.”

“That is neither true nor humerous. But this is not the point of this conversation. Allow me to speak to my assistant.” 

“He’s puking into a trash can, dad, you don’t wanna talk to him.” 

His voice dropped low and dangerous, “Annalee Warthrop, he was functional when last I saw him. Did you acquire additional illicit substances for him?” 

She laughed, “Well I didn’t get them specially for him! But I helped him avoid getting charged with assault so that’s something.” 

“Anna, where are you? I will collect him at once. And you are attending post secondary school, you ought not be drinking, I will not tolerate failed courses at this level.” 

“Relax, dad, the worst grade I have is a B.” 

“I highly doubt that.” 

“Yeah, I’ll bet you do. Look, dad, he’s not making it to the Colloquium. I honestly don’t care that you’re mad. He’s really…just let him have this one.”

“I absolutely will not condone this sort of-”

“Alright, dad, I’ll give it to you straight, you can let him stay here for a week or so and I’ll get him home safe and sound and a little less edgy or I can bring him back now and you can deal with his emotional fallout.” 

There was a long silence, “....Do not let him come to any harm.” 

“No shit.” She hung up. 

She dropped the phone on the counter, and went to her dresser to rustle up some clothes for the poor kid. She tossed what would be serviceable as pajamas at him. 

He took the t-shirt and sweatpants and went into the bathroom to strip off his dress clothes. When he walked the world spun under him and he stumbled, trying to keep upright. 

“You alright there, Henry?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, shutting the bathroom floor and sitting down on the tile floor immediately and putting his head in his hands. 

He unbuttoned his shirt and struggled to get it untucked from his pants enough to pull it off. he haphazardly kicked off his dress shoes and started wriggling his way out of his slacks. Getting the pajamas on was even harder. This shirt had too many holes, or not enough, he wasn’t sure. 

After a few minutes she approached the door and knocked, “You dressed, Will?” 

“No. Yeah. Sort of,” he answered, having gotten the pants on and gotten himself stuck in the shirt. 

She came in and laughed, “Whiskey kicking your ass? Ok, sit up.” she pulled him up and helped him right the shirt. “Ok, baby bro, let’s get you laid down.” 

“I get to stay here?” 

“For a few days, yeah, I worked it all out.” 

He, feeling the debilitating effects of all that alcohol now, hung on her shoulder, “Really?” 

“Yeah, fuck with my boy Billy, you fuck with me,” she said fondly. 

“You’re- you’re the best sister.” 

“No shit.” She dropped him onto the futon that served as her bed. She left for a long time and came back in her own sweatpants, leather jacket and dark button down replaced with a baggy t-shirt. She pressed an ice pack wrapped up in a towel onto his blackened eye and he groaned, taking the ice pack so he could hold it where it throbbed the worst. She plunked a bucked down by Will and lay down next to him. He came to her immediately, like when they were kids. His put his forehead on her sternum and she put her arms around him. 

As conflicting and often baffling as Anna was, this was Will’s favorite part about her. They’d felt more like siblings than anything from the jump. Two horrified children living under the dominion of the often cruel Dr. Warthrop. Unlike anything Will had ever experienced from her father, she was effusive and physical. She could let him tuck himself against her without it ever feeling like the burgeonings of romance, despite the lack of blood between them. 

“Remember,” he murmured, “when I had nightmares and came into your room when we were kids?” 

“Course, I do, Will,” she said. 

“You smell like cigarettes.” 

She laughed softly, “You too.” 

“You came up to the attic sometimes too.... Do you miss me, when you’re at school?” 

“Dumbass,” she said and he melted against her. It was as much as he had to say to admit that of course she missed him. That was enough, just to have somebody that wanted him around and told him that she did. 

He slipped in and out of sleep for a few hours. Then heaved up some time in the middle of the night, clutching his stomach. 

“Ann- Anna!” 

She groggily rolled out of his way and let him clamber out of bed, world still spinning to rush to her toilet in time to puke up the sordid contents of his stomach. He wretched horribly into the toilet, head spinning. 

She opened the door and came in, “Aw, I thought you were big and tough, and here you are puking up your whiskey.” 

“I had more than you,” he defended, wiping his mouth. 

She poured him a glass of water and said, “You sure did.” 

He swished the water and spat it out in the toilet, “Can you get me a pillow? I wanna stay here.” 

“Been there.” She came back and made him up an awkward bed around the toilet where he could sit up every few minutes and puke. 

She sat down on the other side of the bathroom with her own pillow.

“You don’t have to -” he clutched his mouth for a moment, “you don’t have to stay.” 

“I sure as hell do,” she said, “If you go down too hard I’m going to have to take you to the hospital.” 

He groaned and laid his head against the toilet. 

___________________________

It took Will two days to get back up on his feet but when he did Anna made good on all her promises. He stayed there for a six more days. She took him to all the campy freshman events she usually avoided like the plague. She took him to museums and poetry readings and anything he seemed to show any interest in. For one entire week Will Henry was allowed to do just as he pleased. They slept late and ate too much take out. He wandered her campus alone while she was in class and she even got him a chance to talk with an English professor at her college. 

When finally the time came for him to go home he was calmer than he’d been in weeks, months maybe. 

“Call me if it gets bad again,” she said, hugging him fiercely, “Or just call.” 

He hugged her back just as fiercely, “Love you, Annie.” 

“Love you, Billy boy, now get outta here, you’re train is leaving.” 

He gave her a final parting grin and stepped onto the train that would take him back to New Jerusalem.


End file.
